#Crosshair is so dog person- coded | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ireadwithmyears · 6 months ago

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i’m just gonna add a read more here cause I like to talk.

I am a fellow hunter Simp, so the section about him was written with a very personal experience in mind. Me and my friend have developed some strategies about going out on the town together, and the ones I mentioned here are really helpful. I might have a general idea of what she looks like, because I do have some vision left. However, I’ve been blind since birth, and put me in a situation where we’ve been separated and I’m potentially lost, I’m going to be too anxious to recall any of that when I ask someone to help me find her and inevitably, their first question is going to be well, what does she look like? So setting a part time Where she can describe to me her physical appearance in general as well as what she’s wearing that night really takes off that stress. Also yes, bright and contrasting colours are super helpful especially if you’re going somewhere like the club and everything is dark around you. Makes it super easy to differentiate the person you’re with.

I’m so happy to hear that Echo spoke to you so deeply. I am a hunter girly, but I’m also an eEcho girly, and as a disabled coded character, he’s really special to me and unlike most others, would be able to understand your feelings in a way that others wouldn’t. He knows exactly why you’re feeling like a burden because he has felt the same way, especially after the citadel and he was a new member of the batch. And he’ll tell you what they told him when he was struggling and felt like he was just making their lives harder. “We didn’t ask for you to be with us because we thought you’d make our lives easier. We wanted you with us because we saw your value, your skills, your devotion, and that’s what we admired. None of your struggles suddenly change any of those things or make them any less true.

It’s crazy to me how worlds apart kids are with guide dogs versus adults. I have a guide a dog myself, and if you tell a child please don’t interact with it, and here’s why, they are so respectful about those rules and suddenly, that dog isn’t important. They act like it doesn’t even exist . Adults, however, they might think that because I don’t have much vision left, they can get away with a sneaky pet. Or, they won’t pet, but they talk in a baby voice which honestly, is just as bad if not worse when it comes to your dog getting distracted while working. Or they just make passive aggressive comments like oh, I wish I could pet you, but I know I’m not supposed to, which by the way, is still talking to my dog and is still distracting. Adults need to learn from their kids. Sorry, had to rant.

I just feel like Crosshair would place such a high value on your autonomy and independence, because he would understand how frustrating it is for people who try to make choices for you, and even if they are well-meaning, try to help you by being too overbearing. He understands that you have figured out how to survive this long, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that flow by being over protective. However, if you don’t ask for help because you’re being stubborn and it gets to the point where you put yourself at any kind of risk, that switch is flipped And he’s going full protective, that was really stupid of you and I’m saying this because I love you but don’t ever do that again.

Please, yes, give me more clones to do these with. I will do it. Just let me know of who, either here, or shoot me an ask or message, and I would be more than happy to take requests. And if you have any specific scenarios in mind, I can do my best to incorporate those as well.

How each member of the bad batch would be with a visually impaired significant other (short imagine’s/headcannons

Word count: 5.4K

Pairings: the bad batch ex female reader (individual)

Tags/warnings: some are suggestive, mostly domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injuries

note: look, it’s the epitome of self indulgence. I wrote this solely because I’m blind, and have never seen these ideas discussed when it comes to our beloved boys. However, I recognize that the majority of people reading this will not have shared this experience, so this is why I am adding a disclaimer/reminder to tell you that blindness is a spectrum, and the majority of us have at least a degree of useable vision left, so that is why I continue to use visual language/descriptors like look or watching. That being said, I hope you enjoy these, I had so much fun writing them, and if you have an idea for a specific scenario so I can do more of these, or another particular clone who isn’t a member of the batch, please let me know, and I would be happy to write more

Hunter🩷

Hunter is the best at planning dates when it comes to keeping your accessibility and comfort in mind.

If he wants to take you out somewhere, he’ll always go and scope it out beforehand, analyzing things that might not make it an enjoyable experience for you. I.e. if the lighting is too low and will obscure any of your remaining vision. If the music is too loud and will make it hard for you to effectively communicate with him. He knows that both of these things, especially when they’re working in tandem, can make you feel on edge and anxious, and that’s the last thing he wants you to feel when he’s taking you out on a date.

He will always ask the establishment about things like accessible or braille menus, or, if you happen to have a guide dog, seating that will have the space to accommodate and be comfortable for all of you.

If the menu isn’t accessible for you, he will always give you a heads up beforehand, using his datapad to pull up the menu on the holonet so that he can help you familiarize yourself with it, and you can decide what you want before you get there, taking a lot of the stress and pressure off of you because you don’t have to rush.

He wants you to feel cherished, loved, and safe when you’re out and about with him. So if you are going somewhere that’s particularly busy or crowded, he will also adapt himself.

He’ll keep you close, whether it’s with your arm tucked securely in the crook of his elbow to guide you around, or his hand gently placed on the small of your back, letting it rest there so that you know he’s right there with you.

He never plans on getting separated from you, but if, by some unforeseen circumstance, it happens by accident, he has a plan for that too.

If you’ve got remaining vision that is useable, he will intentionally wear bright, contrasting colours to make him easier to spot, even when he’s a distance away.

If you don’t have any remaining vision, he’ll wear something like keys that jingle, or an article of jewellery that makes a distinct sound as he walks so that you can tell when he’s approaching.

Regardless, every time you go on a night out, he will take the time to describe his appearance to you in detail, his general physical description, what he’s wearing, so that if, for some reason, you do get separated, you know how best to describe him to someone, so that they can locate him for you and help you make your way back to him

His enhanced senses have become innately attuned to your normal patterns and rhythms, and if he notices any rapid fluctuation or change be it with your breathing or heart rate, indicating that the environment you’re in is causing you stress, he’s whisking you away, taking you back home, despite any of your protests. He knows you’re just fighting him because you feel guilty about potentially messing up the night, which you absolutely are not.

He will not let you feel that way for long, because when you’re home, he is determined to make you feel like the beautiful, treasured, and wanted human being that you are.

He orders your favourite takeout food. He’ll lie you down on your bed, surrounding you with soft blankets and pillows, gently and tenderly beginning to caress and massage the tension from your tensed up shoulders and back, partly because he feels like he might have inadvertently been the cause of it being there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” you try to apologize. “I know you really wanted to...”

“Shh,” he quiets your apology, a hand coming up to softly brush a finger against your lips, resting his forehead against yours gently. “Meshla,” he breathes, unable to help the small smirk of amusement that pulls at the corners of his mouth as he observes, taking note of your breath audibly catching in the back of your throat as his finger, slow and slightly teasing, begins to lightly trace the edge of your bottom lip.

He presses his lips to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss as he affirms, “this is all I want,” he breathes in a whisper close to your ear that immediately has your whole body erupting in goosebumps.

“You,” he continues, his voice a low, husky rumble against your neck as his lips press, warm and deliberate, directly where your pulse flutters beneath them, pulling a soft, yet audible gasp out of you, that makes his lips curve up into a smile that you can feel against the skin of your neck. “Are all I want.”

He spends the rest of the night taking his time to prove that to you, in every way that he knows how.

Tech🩷

He takes note of every single bruise you get on your legs from bumping into shit all the time.

You’re blind, it’s just an occupational hazard. You might not even notice that you have one, but he certainly does, and he’ll take care to notify you of every time you accumulate a new mark in your collection.

“There is a bruise directly above your left knee,” he observes, gentle fingers tracing over the mark with a soft frown marring his features.

He naturally has picked up on using the language that is most helpful to describe the location of something visual to you. You didn’t even have to ask the first time you were on hands and knees on the floor, feeling around for one of your shoes. He didn’t point, and say “it’s over there,” which is just instinctive habit for most people. Instead, he had a used more specific directives like “behind you, on a slight diagonal to your right.”

“How did this happen,” he asks softly now, placing your hand directly on top of the blossoming mark on your leg.

You give him a half shrug and a rueful smile. “I don’t know,” you admit, honestly puzzled. “It happens all the time.”

From then on, he observes you closely, quickly coming to the realization that there are things that are just harder for you to look out for, and, just as quickly, doing his best to rectify each one. He’s easily able to identify a pattern of cause and effect that lead to your many bruises, bumps, and small every day accidents, and rather than being over bearing and cautious with you, he just figures out a way to remove the root of each problem entirely.

Each step on the Marauder’s gangway is suddenly marked with a long strip of brightly coloured tape at each edge, so that you can more confidently move down the steps without having to fumble to find the edge with your foot.

Low sitting caf tables in the middle of the living room, with sharp, jagged corners jutting out are suddenly pushed up against the wall, so that you don’t have to be careful while stepping around them, trying not to hit your leg off of one of them.

He makes sure that any overhead cupboards in the kitchen that are hard for you to notice until your head is colliding with their open doors, are kept securely shut, recalling a particular incident when, whilst putting away dishes, your head had caught on one of the cupboard doors, large bump blossoming on your forehead, just barely missing your eye. He had frowned, gently holding an ice pack to the swelling bump, deciding that from now then on, he would put any of the dishes away that needed to go on the top shelves. He wouldn’t budge on this, even when you tried to argue.

“Cyar,” he had said, voice stern, even as he gently took you by both of your shoulders. “I understand your need to be able to do things independently, and I respect it greatly. But, as much as you can make a light about getting bruises on your legs from these little incidents. Your head is much too important to apply that same lightness to, and I will not compromise on that so please, let me do this for you.” he had leaned down, barely brushing his lips over the bump on your head in a caring, affectionate gesture, and that had made your resolve completely crumble.

He’s also hyper aware of your systems and ways of organizing things, and it has become a habit for him to make sure that it is maintained.

Shampoo and conditioner bottles that look almost identical with exception to the labels that isn’t much help to you are always set in a specific order for you to find in the shower. You always leave things like your wallet and your cane in the same place, and if anyone messes with these orders, it can really throw you off.

If anyone does touch or move any of your things, regardless of how insignificant, without telling you first, Tech will find out, and, especially if it’s one of his brothers, will thoroughly scold them for it, ensuring that they understand why somethings so small could be really frustrating and disorienting for you, and makes sure that they never do it again.

If you read braille, this man learns it for fun one day on a whim, and he doesn’t even tell you about it.

He’ll put away your groceries for you one day, and then you’ll be searching for something like a dinner ingredient, and find that he’s attached a braille label to the box, with completely correct use of the six dots that form the language.

When you confront him with it, he only shrugs, adjusting his goggles with a slightly confused expression.

“You sound surprised,” he observes with one raised eyebrow. “In a practical sense, this was a logical solution,” he continues, clearly unfazed by your display of shock.

“That’s not fair,” you pout, leaning against the counter and folding your arms. “If you’re going to learn braille, then you at least need to teach me some Mandoa,” you challenge.

“I was not aware that you were interested in the subject. But that is an agreeable request. What would you like to know?” He asks, looking at you questioningly.

“Like,” you bite your lip, considering, tilting your head in curiosity. “What’s that word that you always call me?” You ask. “It starts with an S? I think? Or maybe a C...c cyar?” You say, suddenly uncertain and cringing at your own pronunciation.

He straightens, suddenly grateful that you’re unable to see the blush that’s crept into his cheeks as he answers evenly.

“Ah, yes, the word that you were saying is correct. Cyar... it means, love... or beloved,” he answers, voice going soft as he catches your hand in his, almost absently pressing his lips to the back of your knuckles briefly as you stare at him, surprised.

“You ... you love me?” You ask, hopeful and voice clearly bewildered. The smile that pulls at the corners of your lips lights up the whole room.

Both eyebrows arch as he looks down at you, because now he’s the one who’s confused. When he responds, his voice is far less confident and sure than it usually is. It holds almost a shy, completely uncharacteristic timidness, which conveys the genuine honesty in his words when he speaks.

“Well ...cyar. of course I do. I thought it was obvious.”

Echo🩷

Echo, unlike most people, understands all the aches and pains, mental and physical, that come with being disabled.

He’s sat with you on the bathroom floor, your head resting against the cool linoleum of one of the tiles on the wall after a concert. You had come home to find your head throbbing from the after affects of being surrounded by a combination of extremely loud music, a screaming crowd, and strobe lights that made you wish that you didn’t have any remaining vision at all.

Your eyes were shut tightly, and your heart fluttered with surprise and gratitude when, with his one functioning hand, Echo, movements slow and meticulous, carefully began to undo your hair from the tight updo it had been forced into all night. There he sat, fingers so, so gentle as they ran through your hair, undoing the tangles and soothing away some of the tight ache that had gathered at the back of your head.

He’s careful to stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt the little bit of peace that you had found. The only thing that fell from his lips were gentle breaths and soft murmurs of “oh, sweetness, s’okay,” lips pressing the lightest kisses to your flushed cheek, the side of your aching forehead, until the painkillers had finally, finally kicked in.

If you’re a cane user, he always has his eyes peeled for the little bumps and cracks along the sidewalk.

He’s seen what happens when the tip gets caught in one of them, when the handle inevitably jabs against your stomach or ribs and the immediate discomfort on your face that follows.

He also sees the bruises that are left there afterwards, and as much as he loves gently pressing his lips to each of them, reassuring you that he’ll kiss them better, he’d rather them just not be there in the first place.

So, he always watches out for them, giving you an ample warning on ones that your cane could get caught in so that you can move it out of the way.

He takes you to a holofilm, and you both don’t realize that it’s not available with audio description until you’re in your seats and the headset doesn’t work. He immediately turns to you, giving you a reassuring smile and offering his hand, saying “We can leave, if you want. If you’re not going to get anything out of this, we can go, and we’ll find something else to do.”

You decide to stick it out, rationalizing that you’ll still be able to get something out of the film, if not the whole story, and besides, he can catch you up on parts you didn’t understand after it’s over.

In the end, it’s still worth it for you.

You finish half of a bag of popcorn before commercials are even over. You’re intrigued by the movie for almost half of it, and then finally, you spend the rest of it passed out with your head resting on Echo’s shoulder, only for him to wake you, slightly chagrined, when the credits are rolling.

When you’re out of the theater, you walk together hand in hand down the street. He apologizes profusely, saying that he should have done more research. You try to laugh it off to reassure him that it was fine, because you just had one of the best naps of your life in that theater. When it’s clear that that doesn’t help, you’re turning to him, sighing with a small frown.

“Echo,” you say with a small shake of your head. “I’m the one who should be sorry, not you, love.” At his look of bewilderment, you continue. “You do so much for me already, and I’m just so, so grateful for that. It’s not always something I feel like I can repay you for.” You look away, ashamed.

Because it’s true. He has his own set of issues and lingering problems from the injuries he sustained at the citadel. You can encourage him to do things like his physiotherapy exercises that ensures that his cybernetics are working in tandem with his body. But you can’t actually help him with them, whether it be with making modifications or repairs. It sometimes makes you feel a bit useless, because he helps you so much and you feel like you can only help him so little, and you feel like you’re just adding to his already overflowing plate sometimes.

“I know there could be easier people for you to be with,” you confess, voice quiet.

Echo stops dead at the street corner, catching your wrist to stop you from moving forward, and turning to fully face you with his brow creased in a frown.

“Oh, Cyar’ika,” he says, voice soft, reaching out a hand to tilt your head up so that you’re looking at him. “Now who put that idea in your head, ner kar’ta?” he whispers, gazing down at you with pursed lips.

Unexpected tears spring to your eyes at his gentle tone. The truth is that you can’t place this feeling on a singular person, though people have contributed to it. Family members have made comments in passing, strangers who look at the two of you and immediately begin to judge from there own preconceived notions and outside opinions. It’s society at large, who has made you feel like your blindness is a burden to the ones you love.

You don’t know how to say that, though. So you remain silent as Echo leans down, dropping a lingering kiss to your forehead as he whispers, “I don’t need you to make my life easier, cyar. You make my life meaningful, and that, to me, is more important.

He rests his forehead against yours, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. “Your needs don’t make you a burden, cyar’ika. I want you to remember that. I want to make sure that they are always being met. It’s the least I can do, you understand?”

All you can do is nod, your heart in your throat.

The next time you go see a holofilm with him, and the audio description isn’t available, Echo is prepared this time.

He still offers to leave, but when you refuse, he has a plan. In his own time, and on the occasions when you both have been watching something at home, he always makes sure the described video settings are on, for your benefit, and when he’s alone, for his.

He’s observed closely, listening and carefully paying attention to how the narrator’s go about describing things. So, when the movie starts, he leans over to you, keeping his voice low and quiet, beginning to describe to you what’s happening onscreen, careful to never interrupt any dialogue.

You stare at him, more than a little surprised. “Echo, are you going to do this for the whole film?” You ask, caught off guard and delighted all at once.

He gives you a quick nod. “Yes,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Now, be quiet and let me do it.”

True to his word, he does, staying close to you and keeping his voice quiet, so as not to disturb anyone around you. If someone still tries to shush him or gives him a dirty look for talking in the theater, he glares at them, in only the way that Echo can, until they stop.

This time, you stay awake during the whole film, watching intently, and listening to echos every word as he is meticulous in describing the visual things that you’re missing. In spite of all of the things that are different in comparison to your last date, one thing still remains the same.

You still finish the movie with your head resting on his broad shoulder, and he still looks at you like you’re the centre of his world.

Wrecker🩷

The first time you make a blind joke about yourself in front of him, he’s terrified.

Instinctively, he starts laughing, but then, registering your words, he immediately cuts himself off, not wanting to offend you, and is concerned that you’re being mean to yourself, which he will not allow.

When you only snort at his reaction, playfully nudging him and explaining how it’s fine, because you have to make fun of the things that you are unable to change, and how it’s actually a mark of self love if you have the ability to laugh at yourself, slowly, he begins to understand.

Soon enough, he not only readily laughs at your self deprecating humour and blind jokes, but at one point, he ends up slipping out one of his own before he can stop himself.

Again, he’s immediately apologetic and regretting his words, but when you throw back your head and laugh heartily, he feels a little less insecure and soon enough, you both have the ability to crack blind jokes with each other without missing a beat, to everyone else’s chagrin and fond amusement.

He decides that having the ability to make you laugh, getting to watch your eyes sparkle with amusement and hearing the sounds of your joy is music to his ears, and is one of his favourite things.

Wrecker is your number one protector. Not in a toxic, over protective way.

Even though he’s only got one functioning eye, chances are he’s still got more vision than you, so he’s taking it upon himself to be the working set in this relationship, meaning he’s always watching out for you.

If you’ve got a guide dog, the first time he encounters it, he might have gone to pet it, but, before he did, he sees the do not interact sign, and stops short, quickly pulling back and apologizing.

He asks questions, just to make sure he understands why it’s important, and after you explain it, he fully respects the boundaries and never forgets them, to which you are immensely thankful.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so grateful for him just doing the decent thing, until you tell him that a lot of people understand that you’re not supposed to pet the dog, but will either do it anyways, thinking that if you can’t see them doing it and they do it silently, you won’t notice, or they’ll talk in a distracting way to the animal, which is sometimes worse, and equally as distracting for the dog to work through.

This angers him, that they would take advantage of your blindness in such a disrespectful manner, and because you’ve explicitly told him that distracting your dog could potentially put you in danger, under the right circumstances.

From then on, he’s always watching.

If someone is petting your dog while it’s working, or trying to distract it, he’s right there, towering over them and glaring with his arms crossed, not so subtly pointing at the do not pet sign until they back away, stuttering and flustered.

If a child runs up to pet it, he’ll much more gently intercept them, crouching down on the ground to quietly explain to them the rules. In your experience, children are often much more respectful than adults, and watching him interact so kindly with them melts your heart every time.

Wrecker is tall. Standing at 6 feet six, it makes him not the most ideal guiding companion.

If he’s guiding you himself, sometimes, unintentionally, his elbow might knock against your head, for which he is immediately aware of, and instantly apologetic.

He will always stop, large hands gently cradling the sides of your face as he looks you over, worried that even the slightest bump from him could leave a bruise. Regardless of what he finds, though, he’ll always lean down, dropping a kiss to your forehead with a soft, “m sorry, meshla.”

His solution to this problem, however, is a tad bit unconventional.

When confronted with a situation where it’s just more efficient for him to guide you, for example, a street blocked off by construction, taped off areas and pylons everywhere, instead of offering you something like his hand or his wrist to hold, he simply reaches down, scoops you up into his arms and carries you over his shoulder until you’ve both cleared the obstacles together, you letting out a surprised squeak and giggling all the while.

Wrecker finds you beautiful, every day, all the time, and he is constant with his reminders of that.

As a blind person, it can be more difficult to coordinate a whole outfit, look, hair, and make up. He is so appreciative, and loves if you do that. But, if you’re one of those blind people who never learned how to do make up, who isn’t as confident in their sense of personal style, and you feel a little bit self-conscious about how much, or how little, in your opinion, effort you put into your look when you’re going out on a date with him, he will quickly assuage your fears the minute he catches wind of them.

He’s very good at detecting those days where you’re not feeling good about your appearance, just intuitively sensing when you’re having a bit of an off day, and when you could use a reminder of how beautiful and precious you are to him. He knows he can’t magically change your mind.

But he can tell you about all the things he finds attractive about you, every day, if you need that reminder.

He’ll tell you of each one, each part of you that he finds beautiful beyond belief, while taking the time to softly caress and kiss each one, with whispered affirmations of “Such a pretty little thing,” and “You’re perfect, cyar, absolutely perfect.”

And if that’s not enough, he’ll keep going, keep moving downwards until he can look up at your beautiful face, watching from in between your parted thighs as your lips form equally beautiful noises for him.

Crosshair🩷

It isn’t that Crosshair doesn’t want to help you. It’s just that, honestly, he’s a little bit hesitant to, in the beginning, fearing that he might overstep, because he places such a high value on choice, and respects your independence and autonomy to much to question you and your abilities.

He trusts that, if you need his help, you’ll come to him and ask. He also trusts that you’ve been living with blindness for a long time, maybe even since birth, and you’re aware enough to know your boundaries and limits, trusting that you’ll advocate when you need him to help with one of those limits.

Just because he doesn’t help you as much in the physical sense, does not mean he isn’t your number one advocate, because he absolutely is.

For example, if you’re a guide dog user, and you both are going out together using a ride sharing app. If the driver refuses to let you in they’re speeder because of your service dog, he will wait patiently for you to explain, analyzing every micro expression of the driver and knowing when they’re still not listening to you, and he will step in without hesitation.

Wearing his most menacing glare, and in a voice that is deadly calm, he will absolutely read them the riot act. He knows every law regarding your guide dog, and knows just how properly to phrase them in a way that will make the driver scared, usually when he mentions the 5000 credits fine they could be sued for not denying you access

He’s also keeping his eyes out to make sure that no one distracts your dog, and isn’t afraid to directly confront anyone who tries, saying something snarky like, “You know, maybe you’re the one who needs a guide dog, if you can’t read the don’t pet me sign that’s right in front of your face,” paired with a signature eye roll.

They always back away stuttering, and it always makes you laugh, even as you gently rebuke him, saying “Cross, that was a bit rude.”

He scowls, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him as he responds.

“And you, sweet girl, are too nice,” he purrs lowly against your ear. But, with the way that he begins to nuzzle at your neck, you don’t really think it bothers him that much.

If you’re one of those blind people who feels like asking for help is just burdening other people with your problems, and would rather risk facing the consequences by trying to do something yourself, rather than ask for help, he will find out, and he will not be pleased in the slightest.

Your stubbornness is something that he loves about you. But if it has a tendency to go too far, especially if you’re putting yourself in harms way, that adoration will quickly turn to frustration.

For example, one time, you both were staying at a place that had a glass topped stove.

These things are so inaccessible for blind people, it’s not even funny. But rather than admit defeat and let him cook dinner, you decided that you could figure it out, and gave it your best shot.

Your best shot ended with you trying to line up the pot with the burner, and very quickly, receiving a searing burn on your hand from touching the heat.

You had not anticipated it getting that hot that fast , and as you quickly pull your hand away, tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you let out a pained hiss.

““what are you doing?”

He had materialized behind you from seemingly out of nowhere, voice a silky, yet tensed coil as he reaches around you carefully, quickly flicking off the burner before long, dextrous fingers wrap around your wrist, still gentle, even as he insistently pulls your hand away from where you’ve been clutching it to your chest, eyes keenly examining the burn with a soft frown on his face.

Wordlessly, he guides you over to the kitchen sink, hand on the small of your back, turning the water on cold and carefully placing your injured hand beneath the stream.

Only then does he come to stand in front of you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders, his expression hard as he looks down at you.

“What were you thinking, cyar?” He grits out, voice almost a growl as he tries to understand. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I could have helped and prevented this,” he gestures to your hand. “From happening.”

You blame the trembling in your voice on the lingering throbbing ache in your hand.

“I’m s sorry. I I thought that I could figure it out. You were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you B because I’m scared that I burden you with all the help I need sometimes and.”

“Stop,” he cuts you off in one quick, decisive syllable, and you instantly fall silent.

He tilts your chin up with one hand, guiding your eyes to look at him. His lips form a thin line when he sees the glimmer of unshed tears there. When he next speaks, his voice is still firm, but there is an underlying gentleness and softening in his tone. It has lost its hard edge, and it’s protective bite.

“You are not a burden, to anyone, but especially to me.”

“But,” you try to interject, but he easily silences you, taking your face in both of his hands and cradling it gently.

“Shh, cyar, listen to me,” he says, his voice a quiet command.

“If you are a burden, then you are my burden. In the same way that I am yours.” He takes your uninjured hand in his, relaxing his fingers against yours, allowing you to feel it’s tremors.

Oh.

It’s been so long since his hand has shaken like this. He’s worked so hard to try and work through this particular trauma, and though it hasn’t completely gone away, it only begins to tremble during moments of high stress. You flush with shame, realizing that this moment of high stress is completely on you.

“I know what you’re doing, and stop it,” he says, voice stern, squeezing your hand in a silent warning. “Look at me, cyar’ika,” he continues, voice softening.

When you do, he continues. “If we are each other’s burdens, then we take care of each other, together. Do you understand me?”

You nod, actually stunned into complete silence at his proclamation.

“Good,” he says, voice softening further. He leans forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, fingers gently caressing the side of your neck as he pulls back.

He gives you a playful nudge as he smirks.

“Don’t ever try something like that again, cyar,” he quips with a scowl. “Your eyes already don’t work, and if you lose one of your hands, you’re completely fucked.”

All the levity of the moment vanishes, and it ends with your face pulling into a smile, a soft laugh falling from your parted lips as he watches you, eyes filled with adoration.

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corellianbrandy · 3 years ago

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Caught up on episodes 2-16 of The Bad Batch this weekend and these are my thoughts as I watched

1. Love how tarkin has aged like 40 years since we last saw him approximately four-to-six months ago in the clone wars. Like I’m not kidding I genuinely love it

2. Whenever little omega gets out of the ship and sees sunlight for the first time and is so excited about dirt 🥺

3. The scary scary nexu 🥺🥺🥺🥺 so cool

4. The empire just immediately making everyone’s lives miserable ie giving everybody a chain code and shit. You’re right Dave Filoni we SHOULDN’T have social security numbers.

5. CID FUCKING RULES LMFAO. Cathy Bates lizard ass mob boss bitch. Echo knows her as ‘a contact of the Jedi’ which coming from him probably means less ‘the Jedi’ in general and more just ‘Obi-Wan and Anakin’. Cid clearly liked the Jedi, but Anakin I can’t imagine having that much patience to deal with her and he probably just interacted with her out of necessity but Obi-Wan. Imagine her and Obi-Wan interacting.** The flirting. The mind games. They were probably in love.

6. I always know that I personally am going to have a great time whenever the Zygerians show up because they always bring the Peak Weird Scifi Ralph Mcquarrie 70s vibes with them and they did NOT disappoint. The flying lizard vs. rancor fight gave me the strength I needed to go on another day

7. Speaking of the rancor like I knew it was going to be a rancor as soon as we saw the cage but I wasn’t expecting it to be THEE rancor.

8. Furthermore. Lost it at thee rancor making puppy dog heart-eyes at omega as it’s being led away to be chained up under Jabba’s palace to eat Jabba’s enemies for the rest of it’s life until Luke finally kills it in 4ABY.

9. Everybody climbing through the ion engine core was COOL SO COOL. My little nerd brain really loved that. “This is actually a marvel of engineering. This steel coating is capable of withstanding -“ “NO ONE CARES!” 💯💯💯💯 Exactly how I would’ve written it A+++++++

10. The fucking rattlesnake wild west music that aggressively plays every time Cad Bane is on screen. What’s better than this.

11. Cad Bane’s entire new gunslinger cowboy outfit. Everything to me.

12. I love all these deep seeded reasons we’re getting for why the storm troopers SUCK. 1. Being the entire idea to use them in the first place was based off a misunderstanding made after one(1) experimental mission where it’s interpreted that they’re better than the clones when the clones were the reason for the mission’s success in the first place and 2. How a lot of the first-wave storm troopers were trained by the clones who either didn’t want to train them and didnt do a great job on purpose or did it but personally left out a lot of info and skills. Pretty fascinating explanation for protagonist armor while also making a statement about the inefficiency and insincerity of institutional evil/bureaucracy (I guess).

13. Holy shit did NOT LIKE THE CLAUSTROPHOBIC ENDING AAAAAHHH. Like the facility on kamino floating to the bottom of the sea. Kill meeeeeeee. Very cool visuals though.

14. One thing I didn’t like was all of the stuff with Crosshair. It was all just so contrived and weird and didnt make any sense and really just brought the show down in the end, writing-wise. Honestly, most of the stuff regarding the clones’ story arch after their interaction with the guy on Ryloth who still had his armor painted, where we’re supposed to just assume his inhibitor chip . . . didn’t work or something? But instead of anyone bothering to tell him what’s going on after such a big deal was made out of the chips the episode right before this, it’s treated like some kind of moral choice the guy is making kinda took me out of the story severely. And even more so when the same guy manages to talk a bunch of other clones out of working for the empire too. Like can they do that? We’ve had this idea that these chips essentially mind control you repeated to us over and over so wtf. There was no coherent explanation for any of it. Maybe it’ll be explained later somewhere else, but still. Weird to do it this way. They needed to be more consistent with what a horrible scary thing those chips were instead of doing whatever that was. But up until then it was a lot of fun sci-fi.

14. Every minute cody doesn’t show up in one of these post war 66 shows i get more and more excited for him to show up dramatically in kenobi

**Like fr picture it it’s year 2 of the clone wars. Anakin and Ahsoka are sitting at the space mahjong table in Cid’s parlor bored as fuck and ready to leave but Obi-wan is still in cid’s office. it’s hour four and they’re only halfway through orchestrating the most unnecessarily elaborate and convoluted deal for a piece of information like “where is cad bane the last time I saw him he stole my wallet and car keys and he refuses to return them yes my car got blown up but that’s not the point It’s The Principle Of The Thing.” Literally everyone around them grew bored of all of this 3 hours ago but not obi-wan and cid. This is what they do for fun and they are both having the time of their lives. Anakin this war is stressful some of us are trying to relax

#star wars #the bad batch #the clone wars

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everyonewasabird · 4 years ago

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Brickclub 1.6.2 ‘How Jean can become Champ’

Wow, Brevet is such a dick.

We usually see a certain prisoner solidarity--there’s a mention in the description of Valjean’s escape attempts that prisoners always help each other escape, and we see it later among Patron Minette and Thenardier. Brevet really could have kept his mouth shut.

He’s reminiscent of Javert in that way--wolves look out for wolves to some extent, but Brevet is a dog barking to the masters. I don’t remember Brevet being otherwise dog-coded, but he’s certainly going against wolf solidarity here.

Thinking about his weird suspender now. I wonder if Brevet carries symbolism in that scene or if only his suspender does. We’ll see soon I guess.

Random thoughts:

When Javert says “I ought to treat myself the way I would anybody else” he doesn’t actually mean “anybody else” he means people of no particular rank or consequence. He doesn’t explicitly think of it that way, but there are a whole lot of people left out of that category of “anybody else” (cough Bamatabois cough). His whole thing is that he’s the dog at the edge of the village who doesn’t count as one of them.

Hugo says “virgin detective” like it’s a contradiction in terms, which sounds weird as hell but makes sense if your go-to for the detective type is Vidocq.

Damn, Valjean is pretty good at this. We haven’t actually seen him lie much before, I don’t think. Which is interesting! Valjean was honest for the most part, but Madeleine maintains elaborate fictions by having the manners of a gentleman.

..And maybe that’s the point, actually. Maybe that’s why Cosette’s being a bourgeoise lady matters so much to him: he’s learned that if you can convince people you’re genteel enough, you’re above the law. His mask is very much not perfect here, but it’s pretty solidly good enough, and given the bomb that just exploded in his face, it’s remarkable how sensible his side of the conversation is.

Javert’s side of the conversation is not at all sensible, and I love it. I dunno, we’ve all got some part of the brick we relate to too hard, and Javert showing up to conversations with all the moral arguments worked out beforehand in ways that make no sense to the person he’s talking to is mine.

I do really love how nonoverlapping the paradigms are. Javert and Valjean don’t understand each other’s values--fair, because Javert’s are bizarre--and they talk at complete cross purposes. For Valjean, everything is about the personal; even his notions of punishment (passive-aggressiveness is his notion of punishment) is personal. Javert, being Javert, doesn’t care and possibly doesn’t notice. Everything for Javert, including punishment, is institutional, which seems nonsensical to Valjean.

And we’re back in the same drama triangle we were in a couple chapters ago: We’ve got the Higher Authority, The Victim/Malefactor, and the Law, arguing with each other. But this time Fantine isn’t here to be the victim, and Javert has switched his own role to the lowest one--or rather, he’s trying to, and Valjean isn’t letting him. We saw that triangle before, when the police dragged Valjean back to Myriel’s door.

But Javert isn’t vulnerable enough to be transformed here, and Valjean, staring down the crosshairs of all his secrets being revealed or concealed forever, isn’t in any condition to transform anybody.

#lm 1.6.2 #brickclub #oh right i meant to publish this this morning

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twicecussed-crosshair · 3 years ago

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Star Wars: The Bad Batch~ OC!! ✔Kason Jeremiah W. ✔Refuses to give his last name to anyone ✔sometimes called J.W. ✔Has a twin brother, Devon ✔Works with ship mechanics here and there. ✔Transgender; Trans Man ✔He/Him ✔Adult; 27 ✔Has an Anooba named Boofus ✔Is considered a service animal for him. Keeps him safe and can sense triggers to attacks that may occur ✔suffers severe anxiety ✔Is a wicked sniper. ✔Pop Evil-Breathe Again 💢has a series of physical and neurological deficiencies and ailments 💢has a clunky spinal implant that keeps him mobile, but has its bad days 💢anxiety is a bitch, and he knows this 💢has some major dysphoria and hates his appearance most days; has to learn to accept his scars 💢fights with his lineage in whether he would rebel like his father, or obey the Empire as his mother does. 💢has a terrible fashion sense 💕Crosshair is his main love interest. 💕is also torn between a fascination with Hunter 💕Omega is a little sister to him 💕always tries to give her advice because he can relate to her frustration at best.

About:

✔Kason Jeremiah-Wesley Ainsworth, or simply known as: Kason, Officer Ainsworth, or J.W., is a Jedi rogue from the order, a gray jedi if you will, and yet he is disguised under the radar as an Imperial Officer for the Empire. His Jedi master long dead, and his past checkered with sadness and regret, he fights for the best of the Rebellion to make up for the trouble and pain he feels he’s caused. His short stature and young appearance brings an unimposing allure about him, yet his voice, when heard, is loud and boisterous. He knows how to silence a room full of soldiers. Kason was an astute jedi with an honor to all authority and the utmost respect for the Republic as a whole, and as a Separtist in the Empire, he feels he is overshadowed by shame and anger, which further fuels some of his risky decisions.

✔Kason has had a long standing relationship with Captain Rex of the 501st clone battalion. The fact they kept it a secret for almost ten years says a lot. Rex has always been a standing pillar for his life choices and the fact he stood so strong when he lost his father to the war, but instead of a father figure, Rex became something much more. It wasn’t long before Kason was attached to him, and promised himself to Rex that after the war ended, he would be there for him. He would help him find his purpose further in life

✔Kason was known for his temperamental behavior toward some authority that challenged his morals or methods. This landed him quite a reputation amongst many of his comrades and fellow Imperials. He was only given a slap on the wrist most often due to the very matter of fact that his mother was a higher rank amongst the same individuals that put him at his current rank.

💥May possibly add more information as i go.💥

🦴Boofus is Kason's Loyal Companion 🦴He's loyal, and he has a special code with most of his commands. The frequency can be read through a device implanted in the canine's inner lobe. It is then transferred from a device beneath the glove on Kason's wrist to the anooba. 🦴Boobers™ 🦴young adult 🦴Domsticated; pure blood anooba 🦴male 🦴has a soft spot for Hunter 🦴Never ceases to growl at Crosshair 🦴yes, top image is reference to my actual ESA registered dog, Boofus.

_____________________________________________________

Other OC’s Include:

Niwk the Wookiee

#star wars oc #the bad batch oc #clone force 99 #bad batch #star wars #star wars fan character #anooba #alien #human #corellian #humanoid #my art #my ocs

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37-children-of-the-dreams · 4 years ago

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Day #21: Woman Like Me

Fennec has been a badass in the Mandalorian, and we know she’ll be there in the Bad Batch being a badass. But, Fennec is also a good person because she saved a Twi’lek slave girl without any hesitation or getting back a favor, and also she’s loyal to Boba and likes helping him. Dave, give us some heartwarming Fennec-centric episodes!

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“I placed some snacks in both your bags,” Korkie said.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Fennec said. “Now I definitely know I won’t die of hunger.”

Fennec looked at Crosshair as the clone prepared to exit. The preparations for the next job was full of Crosshair reminding her of the weapons they needed to use and the disguises they have to wear. Crosshair wore the plainest black shirt and pants while Fennec wore the gift Korkie gave to her. Considering the planet felt bougie to Fennec from the sight alone, she thought it would be a great disguise.

“Don’t forget to protect the ship,” Crosshair told Korkie. “I don’t care if the ship uses DNA for complete control over the panels, I don’t trust anyone here.”

“What a surprise,” Fennec mumbled as she went next to Crosshair.

If Crosshair noticed her sarcasm, he didn’t say anything. Crosshair opened the door and the were instantly met with loud sounds and bright lights. The hanger they rented was way to close to the more ‘party’ district of the city. Fennec looked that Crosshair as he descent from the ship. The hanger’s main manager was fast sleep and they didn’t even bother waking him up. It was a waste of time anyway because they already had Korkie protecting the ship.

Outside the hanger the city burst more into life as Fennec can smell the intense amount of credits in the air. She saw women being paraded with jewelry and old men walking next to them. Fennec smelt the harsh perfume as vendors threw the smell into the wind. Even children seemed to be rather content with life since they all had a snack.

Yet, Fennec knows this was all an illusion. She and Crosshair were simply at the richer part of the city like their last job. She knows the instant she’s out of the main part of the city, it’s all poverty and death. Fennec never understood the idea that some parts of a city could be like that. Even when she was a child, she was questioning why she was poor when there were rich people near her home. Fennec blames whoever was in control of the place, but she can’t really make a huge change. She knows someone worse than their predecessor can come to rule, and Fennec didn't want to be the one to destroy a child’s innocent life.

“You look sad,” Crosshair stated.

“Has the fact that you’ve been hanging around Korkie made you know when a person’s sad?” Fennec asked.

“Kind of, but Fennec, you actually look like you’re going to kill someone the instant I look away. And let’s not forget, we haven’t gotten a puck or a fob yet.”

“I hate the smell of high end perfume. It reminds me of the things I never had as a child.”

“Well, I can’t help with the childhood because that has pass, but if we can have fun, will that make you move on from what you never got?”

“Not really. I like the idea, but I know I can have whatever I want now, which meant the suffering was worth the wait.”

Crosshair scoffs. He wanted to push Fennec into a stall and see the horrified reaction, but he wouldn’t do it. Those were reserved for his estranged brothers, and Fennec was not a brother. Fennec was a sister.

An unfortunate surrogate sister that Korkie and Crosshair had unofficially adopted.

Crosshair took a toothpick from the pack he brought and put it in his mouth. He’s never had a sister before, and every clone knows there is no female clone of Jango in Kamino. They never existed and Crosshair felt that if they did existed, the Kaminoans would for sure have them disposed. A female clone in a city filled with male clones from a male Mandalorian? The Kaminnoans would literally see that clone like they used to see Crosshair, an anomaly that needed to be destroyed.

So Fennec is truly Crosshair’s only sister in his eyes. Which is a huge thing because Crosshair really hates being close to anyone he doesn’t trust. It did took some time to warm up to Korkie and like him, Fennec was another he warmed up too.

“You think it’s okay to find a job in that casino?” Fennec asked.

She pointed to what appeared to be the third largest building on the holo-map she brought with her. Fennec did ask Korkie about the casino she was looking at because of the size and fame it had. Korkie told her it was not just a casino, but a hotel for celebs and their pets. Fennec was eager for the job, but now seeing how close they were getting, she didn't know how to act.

“You have a dress made from beskar,” Crosshair said. “That place doesn’t allow blaster. We’ll be fine. Besides, it’s just celeb with their spoiled pets.”

Entering the casino, Fennec and Crosshair were met with questions about their IDs. Crosshair always had a fake id with him and Fennec had her childhood IDs. The guards were dumb enough to take the fake IDs and let them in. Crosshair said another code for them being mercenaries and were led to a large room. But, instead of a man with multiple escorts, there was a human woman in red waiting for them.

“I don’t care how you got my number,” she said. “But I do need your help.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Fennec said.

“I lost my dog. That dog is too important to my life, and if my husband can’t see that dog... I will die.”

“Bad marriage?” Crosshair inquired.

“That was an arrangement. Get the dog, and you get the money.”

“It there a picture, or a puck for the dog?”

“I have it, but you can’t show it to anyone.”

The woman threw Fennec the puck and Fennec caught it. Fennec was starting to hate people who just threw puck to their mercenaries. They were the ones doing the heavy lifting, but in the providers’ mind, they were just replaceable people. Fennec and Crosshair left the casino and began to look around their area of the city. Crosshair went one way as Fennec went another direction to cover ground.

“If I was a dog,” Fennec said. “Who’s only life is being a bargain chip, where would I be?”

Fennec looked around to find a food stall. People love food and dogs love attention. The dog could be there for the attention they were never given. Fennec ran around the place for a food stall and found a night market filled with people looking for a night snack. Fennec looked through the stalls and found the dog.

They looked scared and dirty. They were begging for food and got the leftovers when the stall people were pitying them. Fennec told a comm and called Crosshair.

“The dog’s at the food stalls,” she answered. “It looks dirty and needs a bath.”

“Great,” Crosshair groaned. “Just get the dog and we’ll leave the bath to Korkie.”

“He only raised birds.”

“What’s the difference? They’re both animals.”

Fennec shook her head as she ended the call. She approached the dog and took out Korkie’s snack to give them a treat. The dog saw Fennec and ran to her with happiness. Fennec knows the dog had a bad life, but they were to take the dog back to its owners.

“Toto likes you,” a stall woman said.

“Toto?” she asked.

“My name for the stray dog. He comes here for food and pets. We all like him because he keeps the pest away.”

“Well, Toto is actually a pet. He just loves to run away. I’m here to take him back to his owners.”

“Well then. Toto, you have been a good boy, I will miss you so much. I think everyone else will too.”

Toto whimpered and Fennec forced herself to look happy. Toto, if it was the dog’s actual name, had a loving relationship with the people in the food stalls. Fennec took away Toto and located Crosshair. The walk to the hanger was sad because of Toto’s cries, but they had a job to do.

At the hanger, they saw the woman and Korkie having a tan. Korkie was rather annoyed, but he kept talking to the woman as Crosshair and Fennec entered. Korkie waved at the two and the woman turned to see her dog dirty.

“What did you do to Joffer?” the woman shrieked.

Fennec felt really bad for the dog again. It’s real name was horrible. The woman ran to the dog and tried to get him to lick her, but he wasn’t having ti and just whined.

“Why she here?” Fennec asked.

“She stated that you took too long,” Korkie grumbled. “I had to argue with her that it was her fault. She lost a dog in a city, what did she expect?”

“As long as we get our money,” Crosshair said. “We leave.”

“Leave?” the woman howled. “No! You dirtied my dog and I can’t be seen with a dirty dog.”

“So what do you want to do about it?” Korkie screamed.

The woman took a step back. “I need a good alibi. You need to look like a couple that I met.”

Fennec stepped next to her. “I’m sorry, but I’m an independent woman. I won’t be with a man.”

The woman gasped. “Then you won’t get the money!”

“No, we will,” Crosshair said.

“We’ll be your couple,” Korkie stated pointing the two of them.

The woman looked pale as Toto whined. Fennec smiled at her discomfort.

“You have no choice in the matter,” Fennec said. “We’ll have evidence of what happened and you can’t stop us.”

The woman weeped at the idea. Fennec high-fives her brothers as the woman began another round of whining. Fennec can’t wait to see her brothers’ plan.

#korkie kryze #korkie kenobi #crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #korkie x crosshair #fennec shand #the bad batch #star wars

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ardentmuse · 5 years ago

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No Ties (Harry Hart x Reader)

Kingsman - Harry Hart x Reader

Wordcount: 6.3k (sorry, not sorry)

Summary: When Harry is recruited to KIngsman, he is an engaged man. But the organization’s policy means he can have no ties. He’s willing to sacrifice his happiness to keep you safe, but can you ever really get over having it all?

Warnings: angst, angst, angst... did I say angst?? Talk of death and violence, just a little bit of soul repairing at the end, but not much

Masterlist

A/N: This started a fem!reader which I then made gen!neutral so let me know if I missed anything. This also isn’t a song fic but is GREATLY inspired by I Was Gonna Marry You by Tristan Prettyman. So angsty and so lovely. Listen to it if you want! Also I need something fluffy after this so there may be another fic tonight to heal my soul. Also note that Kingsman - Day refers to the day Harry starts at Kingsman. Also I did not proofread this because I didn’t want to tbh. Thanks, sweeties!

Kingsman – Day 12

“What’s that you got there?” came a voice from the door of Harry’s new bedroom in the Kingsman manor. Harry turned to see Merlin, the newly-hired tech specialist, peering in and over his shoulder.

Realizing he was caught, Harry took the frame that he was intending to slide under his mattress and placed it prominently on the bedside table.

“Beautiful,” Merlin remarked as he took in the smiling face of a person about Harry’s age their nose scrunched in laughter. “Yours?”

“Was,” Harry mustered as he moved back to unpacking his bags. Merlin turned at the phrase, surprised at the finality of it, but when he saw how rigid Harry’s back was at the inquiry, he didn’t push the matter.

Eight Months Pre-Kingsman

“Darling, will you marry me?”

Harry knelt in the grass of the airfield, having just returned from his third and final tour with the military. His back was straight and his shoulders rigid as was customary in his regalia, the crisp blue suit holding his body in form.

The newly added third Bath star upon his shoulder, the sign of his most recent title, seemed almost as bright as the ring he held out to you. But your eyes seemed to take in neither. You only had eyes for Harry. Your gorgeous, glowing countenance was smiling down upon him, so desperate to hold him in your arms after months and months apart with only letters, much of which were redacted, to keep you connected. You hadn’t even got to hug him yet before he fell to his knees in front of his entire regiment. Tears were rolling down your cheeks at the sight of him, but he couldn’t even be sure you had seen the ring at all.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered as your hands came down to brush across his freshly shaven cheeks.

“And I you,” he smiled against your mouth as you took him in a kiss, completely ignoring his question. But he didn’t mind. He needed you, wanted you, and after so long apart, your touch was like a salve to all the open wounds of his heart, healing his mind from the terrors of war and replacing them with impossibly beautiful images of you naked across his white sheets, flush from lovemaking, or dancing with him on your back patio to soft jazz after dinner, or the sight of your face tilted downward as you walked towards him down a cobblestone path blanketed with flowers to exchange your vows.

As you collapsed into his shoulder, breathing in deeply his scent, his arms found the soft flesh of your waist and tugged you close, two humans wanting nothing more than to never have to part again.

“Say you’ll marry me,” he whispered in your ear, “Please.”

He felt you nod against his jaw more than he heard the mews from your lips. You pulled your hand away from his neck enough to give him the space to adorn it with the precious metal. And as you admired the ring over his shoulder, he admired the skin of your neck, the curve of your legs, and the soft feel of your waist under his hands, the greatest gift in his life his now for good.

Kingsman – Day 01

“I’ll only be gone a week, love,” Harry said as he kissed the top of you head before returning his attention back to the small travel bag he was packing. “And then I will be right back in your arms before you can even miss me.”

You laughed, “I miss you now.”

Harry sighed and turned to you fully as you reclined among the pillows of your shared bed. You were twiddling your thumbs, a weird new habit that formed since he placed that ring on your finger several months ago. The diamond shined in the soft bedroom lights, each turn of your hand catching a new beam. Your gaze danced in your lap and he could tell you were trying not to whine any more than you already had.

“I know,” he whispered, allowing his fingers the joy of running along your jawline. His touch had you lifting your eyes to meet his, still so captivating from behind your lashes. He had to kiss you.

As his lips moved down your jaw, he found himself crawling onto the bed with you, his body hovering over yours in a silent question.

“But I’m right here, right now,” he said with a cheeky smile against your neck. “No need to miss me already.”

His licks and nips across your skin had you smiling in earnest.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him hard against your body. You could already feel him responding to your closeness, the pleasant press of his hardening length against your core just an enjoyable sensation.

“You could always give me something to remember you by,” you cooed into his ear.

Harry chuckled, “How’s a card sound? Or maybe a nice tray of cookies?”

You lifted your hips and ground against him, shutting down his witty banter in a satisfying moan.

“So predictable” he laughed as you slowly sucked on his ear, rocking into him with vigor now, “my perfect little vixen.”

And he gave you quite a bit to remember him by.

Kingsman – Day 05

Several days of tactical tests and mental games had Harry worn down. He was succeeding at whatever they threw his way, but he was finding himself missing you more than he had during any previous training or deployment. Maybe it was the isolation. Maybe it was the raised stakes. Maybe it was the lies. But whatever it was, he could taste you upon his tongue each night as he tried to sleep. He could feel your warm body pressed against him. And if his dreams were any indication, he spent several hours of the night whispering to himself how much he adored you.

But today’s task may have been the very worst yet. He watched on a screen in the tech room as you danced around your kitchen, cleaning and singing and enjoyed the day. He even watched as you ran a finger lightly over a framed photo that hung just beside the sink of the two of your from last year’s military banquet. You gave two firm taps to Harry’s face before pulling your finger away, kissing the tip, and doing it again.

For minutes he watched as he sat as the alone recruit in the room, a few scattered agents watching along as well. No one said a single word.

That was until as you went back to your dishes, faint red crosshairs appears on the screen, centered perfectly on your precious skull.

Harry let out a primal yell, unsure to whom he was really yelling, and rose from his chair, clutching Mr. Pickles, as he decided a few hours ago to call his dog, to his chest.

“If we can get this close, just imagine what your enemies could do, Harry,” Agent Lancelot said with the firmness of a man who knew what he was saying from personal experience.

Harry held tight to the tiny puppy in his arms, unsure of what the actual test was here. Was he supposed to protect you? Was he supposed to call their bluff? Could he trust these strangers with your life?

“You’re bluffing,” Harry said, stern through his teeth as he watched another agent, Gawain he believed his name was, move the mouse, and the target, along with you. The lines gently bobbed along to the music you had playing.

Sensing Harry’s heightened attentions, the agent turned the volume up ever so slightly and the sounds of the third track off the record you listened to so often together when you cleaned came pumping into the suffocatingly cavernous room. And even fainter was the sound of your voice, humming along; happy and completely oblivious to the harm he was bringing to your life simply by being the capable soldier he already was.

“I assure you we never bluff here,” Lancelot said with a smile that only served to make Harry’s blood boil. “But we do have a strong code of honor here. I assume you’ve read the Gentleman’s Guide? Kingsmen only take life to save life.”

Lancelot took long steps towards the desk at which Gawain sat. The tactical agent was still staring intently at you as he kept his target as he had been instructed. But something in his gaze set off flares in Harry’s head and he saw red, a deep possessiveness overtaking him at the fact that any man could look at you as a target, for bullet or otherwise.

“But if you read the Gentleman’s Guide, then I assume you also became acquainted with another one of our rules, an important one. One that is necessary for the safety and success of our missions, and by proxy the safety of the crown, the country, and the planet in general, including your precious fiancé(e) right here.”

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as Lancelot nodded at Gawain.

“No ties.”

A shot rang.

You screamed, piercing through the speakers with shattering waves.

Harry bolted towards the monitor as the agents watched him. You had moved several feet away from the sink but appeared uninjured. But Harry saw what you had yet to see: a perfect prick right in the middle of the beautifully framed photo of the two of you, a bullet piercing what little space existed between your heads. Glass was shattered everywhere and the frame hung limply from its hook.

You slowly moved towards the photo, picked it up between your hands. You examined the damage while avoiding the shards of glass so fractured and sharp.

“What the fuck,” he thought he heard you whisper before you whipped your head around quickly to examine the room for the source the explosion.

Before Harry could see you calm, assure you that there was no harm to come to you in the home you loved, the monitor shut itself down.

“That right there is a liability, Harry. Sure, you can leave all of this, go back and live your happy little life. But you are a man of a certain set of skills. It won’t be long until someone finds them and wants to use them. How long until someone finds your lover who doesn’t have the same code as we?”

A pregnant pause filled the air, only the soft, whimpered breathing of Mr. Pickles at the clear distress of his owner broke through. Harry locked eyes with the man who just dared threaten your life. But did he really threaten your life any more than Harry’s mere existence did?

“Gawain,” Lancelot finally called out. He opened the door to the tech room and left Harry alone in the space. Once the door shut tight, Harry fell to his knees and cried.

Kingsman – Day 10

“I’m taking this job,” Harry said with a deep breath. His words pulled your eyes from the book you had been reading as you lounged so peacefully among the throw blankets on your sofa. “And you aren’t coming with me.”

You scrunched your face in confusion at Harry’s words, more serious than the kind of conversation you were expecting at this time of night, but then softened after a moment of thought.

“Like another deployment? Harry, whatever the time or the distance, we can make it work. I support you. What is another year when we’ll get to spend our whole lives together?”

You smiled up so sweetly at him, so sure that your love could endure any distance, any time, any weird radio silence his operations required. You suffered through so much already, supported him through years of putting his life on the line, going into the most dangerous places in the world and setting up systems to support British forces. And here you were, willing to do it all again, even when you’d come so close to a normal, domestic life. And that smile, that confident smile plastered on your face, broke his heart in a way he knew would never be repaired.

And yet somehow that smile also tightened his resolve. You were too good for this life, too good for him. And you deserved to live in a blissful world that was just as bright and pleasant and welcoming as you were. He couldn’t burden you with the darkness he knew, the darkness that would surround him wherever he went, Kingsman or not.

“You are misunderstanding me, love,” he said, cursing himself at how easily the pet name fell from his tongue, completely betraying his heart.

You looked at him with a serious expression. Your mouth fell open as the wheels turned. You gapped like a fish a time or two, watching the rigid tension of Harry’s jaw as he bit the inside of his cheek, trying his hardest to appear firm.

“… so that’s it?” you whispered. Your lip curled upward and quivered, causing tears to fall from Harry’s eyes as yours did as well.

“Yeah,” he managed before losing it completely, “it is.”

Harry fell at your feet, his hands coming down upon the blankets to draw circles into your tender knees as you cried in earnest.

“Was it something I did?”

You looked up at him with wells in your eyes, your hand kneading at the fabric in your lap. That image, the one of you broken and lost and just inches from him, a few inches of space so easily closed for a kiss but so vast now that those kisses were off the table, that image would be plastered in his mind forever. He knew it would haunt his dreams seeing the only thing he ever loved destroyed by his choices. But he told himself his own pain meant nothing if he couldn’t protect you. You would recover from this. What was he compared to you? In a few years, you would move on. But to move on from someone like you, he knew he never would. And that was his burden to bear, the burden of assuring your happiness and safety, even if he wasn’t the one to benefit.

“Never. You could never do anything—“ Harry said as he rubbed at your ears and your draw. “You’re perfect. But this is something I have to do for me.” Harry swallowed so he wouldn’t fill the space with the words he wanted to say: ‘for us. For you... Everything I do is for you.’

After a few minutes of crying and Harry trying his hardest to calm you with soft rubs of his hands, you took a steadying breath. You reached down to your hand and began to pull off the ring that had sat there, unmoved, for so many months.

Harry felt his heart stop. He had understood what leaving you meant intellectually but the sight of you without your ring, no longer wearing the symbol of where you heart lied, was simply too much. He felt like he couldn’t breath, the tightness in his chest too much for him. He had a brief flash of the flooding of the recruit room, the near drowning that has taken ahold of him just as he reached the toilet and the lightheadedness that was much closer to blacking out than he would like to admit. But this was worse. This pain couldn’t be alleviated with a few deep breaths and a couple minutes time.

This damage was permanent.

Quickly, his hand came down to hold the ring against your fingers and your gaze flicked up in hopeful question. But Harry simply shook his head no.

“It was a gift without condition,” he said to you, hoping you would understand just how much he needed you to keep it. “It is yours.”

You hiccupped, “I can’t keep it. I can’t. I can’t remember that I was going marry you.”

At your imploring gaze, Harry yielded, just like he always did for you. A final tug removed the diamond from your finger.

“It’ll hurt too much,” you pleaded as you dropped the ring into his palm. He didn’t have the heart to tell you it hurt him too much to take it away from you.

As he slipped the ring into his pocket, the weight of it feeling like it could sink him in a sea of despair, he heard you whisper, “I love you.” He ran his hands through your hair as he watched your eyes, still filled with tears pooling and pouring over down your lovely, kissable cheeks.

“I know,” he said and kissed your forehead, slow and sweet like it was the last time.

And when he pulled away, fully expecting to remove himself from you and your life for good, you met his gaze, pleading and honest as you leaned forward. And he could not deny himself the pleasure of feeling your lips, and your love, once more.

The kiss was bruising and all-encompassing. Your mouths melted together in a song they knew so well, but what were once bright chords became a mournful melody, a goodbye ballad.

And when he pinned you to the couch, sucked on your collar bone, and entered you, he moved as slow as his body would allow, memorizing the feel of your muscles gripping him so perfectly, the warmth of your hands upon his back and your breath on his neck, and the sounds that purred from your lips at his lovemaking.

He carried you to bed that night and held you close to his chest until your tears lulled you to sleep.

And when you woke in the morning, Harry, and his things, were gone.

Kingsman – Day 42

Harry walked down the high street away from the Kingsman tailor ship. It still felt quite strange to be wearing such a complicated piece of technology masquerading as formal wear, but he found he liked it. It was a uniform, the same as the kind he grew accustomed to as a soldier, but without the air of force or stoicism. He held his back tall as he continued down the road.

But something simple caught his trained eyes, just a flash of the familiar at the end of the road, the tap of shoes and a black top that sparked his brain, that set off sensors of love in his mind, signaling to his aching heart that it wasn’t done mourning the loss of the only thing that seemed to make life worth living.

When you lifted your head, Harry knew for sure it was you. Your eyes were puffy and your hair less kept than normal, but you still shined brighter than anything else on the road. Your best friend stood in front of you, holding your hand as she pulled you across the street. And it really was a tug as your limbs seemed to not want to move. But you entered the restaurant on the corner without much protest.

Harry felt his chest tighten at the sight. He wanted to run to you, to beg you to forgive him, to come back to him and love him again, but the gentleman’s code ran through his head, and having no ties, no relationships, was a large part of what made the organization successful. A collective of spies with nothing to lose is much more useful than those who hesitate. He had to do this to make the world a safe place for you. And so he watched with sadness as the slumped shoulders and tear-stained cheeks he caused disappeared into the restaurant just beyond his grasp.

And with his head held high and your engagement ring still weighing down his breast pocket, he continued on his way

Kingsman – Day 381

Harry collapsed in a ball on the jet, his hands still covered in the blood of Agent Kay who had so valiantly sacrificed himself to secure the team’s safety. The bomb at the World Cup stadium was disarmed and disposed of, another normal day to any excited fan, and another happy headline to add to the wall of the home Harry had just bought in the part of the city you had always dreamed of calling home.

Maybe he had hoped he could at least have the pleasure of seeing your head in the produce aisle of the grocery store or imagining he had just missed you by a few minutes at the underground station. But really it was just that Harry needed to play pretend. In the year since he had joined Kingsman, he had seen more evil than all his years at war. And to come home to a quiet neighbor, a charming flat, a home cooked meal and families walking down the sidewalk, cleared his mind better than any other distraction.

Right now he needed that distraction more than anything.

Hours later, and completely numb, Harry found himself in his kitchen, pretending like everything was normal. But nothing was normal about this life he had chosen.

He had normal, with you.

Harry tried to cook himself dining, to play music to distract himself. He even put on a movie, a last resort gesture for him if there ever was one. But nothing cleared his head of the sight of Kay slumped over and pool of blood under his body. Or the image of thousands of fans walking just over that spot an hour later like nothing had occurred.

Harry threw on his robe and took slow, long strides up his stairs. He collapsed in his bed and closed his eyes, but the images still remained. The bed felt wrong somehow: the blankets too scratchy, the mattress too firm, the pillows still holding their shape from such light use, and more than anything the warmth of your body and the thrill of your lips soothing him from his nightmares were starkly absent.

He wanted to go home.

His eyes sprung open. The clock beside his bed flashed midnight. Before he knew it, his slippers were on and he was sliding down the hall into his office.

As he sat at his computer, beside him resided that same picture of your face that he brought with him to the Kingsman manor. You were smiling so bright and it was motivation enough for him.

But not today.

Harry booted up the machine, went through the login processes Merlin had set up for him, and soon he had access to every CCTV camera throughout the city. Harry’s fingers typed in the coordinates to navigate to the cameras that pointed towards the front of your new apartment. You had moved a few weeks after Harry left, not that that surprised him. You had picked the place with your joint needs in mind and more room than was necessary for one person. Plus, the memories… so many memories.

He found your window, two stories up and right above the door. Your lights were off. You were safe. You were sleeping. The world was turning as normal for you. Harry smiled.

But then two figures walked into the frame. Harry recognized your form immediately, though the figure beside you was new. He was tall and lean like Harry but his attitude was confidence and charisma in a way Harry always felt he lacked.

Harry watched as you walked up the stoop and looked down at the well-dressed man. This hands were in his pockets but as you spoke, he lifted one to play lightly with your wrist, a move so intimate that it formed a lump in Harry’s throat. And after a few more seconds, the man pulled your forward and into a kiss that seemed as passionate as any you’d ever shared with Harry.

It seemed like minutes, though Harry knew it had only been seconds, before the man pulled away, his fingers dancing with yours as he made his exit. Harry watched you wave at the man’s retreating form and then felt the knife push deeper into his heart as you smiled bliss-filled to yourself as you fumbled with your keys.

Once you shut the door, Harry powered down the computer. He grabbed the photo of you from his desk and tossed it hard against the wall, cracking the frame in two and sending glass flying. Harry was fuming; consumed with a rage he hadn’t felt in years. He was so angry, with himself more than anything, for hoping that you might stay in mourning a little longer. He had wanted you to move on, deep in his bones he had prayed for it more than anything, because if you did it would make his choice justified. But even deeper, he had hoped you would pine forever, so on nights like tonight, when things became too stressful, he could run to you and find solace in your arms once more, let your laughter heal him, your kind words reassure him, and your body erase the pain.

But your life would not wait for him. There was no going back.

With some stabilizing breaths and a hard punch into the most stable part of the wall, Harry began the work of cleaning up the mess that was the one remaining piece of you in his home. He swept up the shards and put them in the bin along with the photo of you which all the mess had once enshrined. He needed to leave you behind, just as you had left him.

But upon seeing you thrown away, your face discarded among dust and debris, he just couldn’t do it. He pulled out your photo and tried his best to wipe away what scratches now littered its surface. He tucked your photo away in his filing cabinet among his mission briefings, safe and secure.

You may have not needed Harry anymore but the time may come when he needed you.

Kingsman – Day 710

Harry failed to prevent a car bombing in Bosnia. Your photo came out of its hiding spot one more time.

Kingsman – Day 1001

A plane is hijacked in Brazil. Harry opened the cabinet.

Kingsman – Day 2484

A sleeper agent assassinated. A peak in the drawer.

Kingsman – Day 3111

The death of Lee Unwin. The reminder of your face.

Kingsman – Day 8851

The death of Harry Hart. Nothing more.

Kingsman – Day 9245

“I know it is against the Kingsman rules, having a relationship—“ Eggsy said as he paced around Harry’s home office, still completely frazzled about how to handle the current state of affairs. Harry had just returned to him but Kingsman as they knew it was not the same. The protocol here was so unclear and the only man Eggsy could rely on for guidance seemed to be a shell of himself these days. But at Eggsy’s words, Harry cut him off, a quick movement of his head that let Eggsy know he had said something that broke the fog.

“When I was shot, you know what I saw?” Harry’s eyes were already gleaming with tears at the reminder of his near-death experience.

Eggsy merely shook his head, urging his friend to continue.

“I saw Y/N,” his voice was raw with emotion as he tilted his head upward to the only piece of newspaper on Harry’s walls that wasn’t a front page. Instead, it was tiny cut out from the Wedding section of the Telegraph, a beautiful face smiling brightly as a rather dashing man, not too dissimilar to Harry, stood behind, the date on the page well over a decade previous. “The love of my life, a person I haven’t held in my arms in over twenty years, but one I still love to this day.”

Eggsy looked away from the newspaper to Harry’s face. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and he was swallowing over and over, waiting for the words to find space in his throat.

“Probably doesn’t even remember me anymore. Married, has a family, runs a business. I stopped looking into things a decade ago. But still, they are the closest I’ve ever had to something worth dying for. And I’d still die for them. I nearly did.”

Harry lifted his eyes to look at Eggsy in earnest, “In that moment, Eggsy, all I felt was loneliness… and regret.” Harry choked on his words and Eggsy felt the emptiness in his own soul acutely.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Harry cut him off, wiping at his own eyes with a new resolve, “I lost my chance. But you haven’t. Just know that having something to lose makes life worth living.”

Harry stood and walked towards his desk and opened the lowest draw. He pulled out a tiny velvet box, unmistakable to Eggsy as to its contents.

He handed the box over to Eggsy without meeting his eyes. Eggsy opened it to reveal a beautiful pave diamond ring with scrollwork detailing along the elegant gold band.

“Why—“ Eggsy started but the way Harry couldn’t meet his eyes explained everything.

“Let’s go get your girl.”

With a nod, Eggsy sprung out the door and down the stairs of Harry’s home. Before Harry could follow, he took the steps he knew too well to the old filing cabinet in the corner. He hadn’t bothered with paper files for missions in years, but the filing cabinet served another purpose in his mind. He pulled at the bottom drawer, to the single manila envelope that contained the frayed photo of your face, some 25 years younger than he knew you probably looked now, but just as happy and enthusiastic as he believed you always would be.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said as he shed the last of his tears. He placed you back in your folder and back in the home he had built for your memory – the external storage of his heart – and left his study in pursuit of Eggsy.

Kingsman – Day 9504

Harry smiled from his seat at the main table overlooking the dance floor of Eggsy’s wedding. He had entertained himself for quite a bit chatting with Tilde’s parents and his new friends at Statesman. But now, from where he sat, taking in all the details of the place settings, the floors, the music, and the happy couples spinning circles on the hardwood, he couldn’t help but picture the bright and festive events you were planning when he started down this path with Kingsman.

You had narrowed down the venues to a handful of places and had already made quite a few decisions about aesthetic. Harry had cared so little, as long as he got to call you his spouse at the end of it all, that you had tasked him with planning your honeymoon. He had never told you about the tickets he had already booked before you gave him back his ring or the extra vacation days he had managed to negotiate with your boss behind your back.

It didn’t matter. It was all a wash anyway.

But at his mind wandered, his thoughts wistful about the life he could have led and the happiness he may have found beside you, he failed to notice Eggsy take the seat beside him.

“You think too much, Harry,” Eggsy said, passing a stiff drink his way. Harry didn’t bother asking what it was but shot it back in a single gulp regardless.

When he set back down the glass, Eggsy passed a manila folder across the table, filled to the brim with papers.

“Consider this a best man gift from me,” Eggsy said, his smile growing just a little cheeky as he sipped his own drink.

“I’m supposed to get you a gift, I’m fairly certain.”

“You being alive is gift enough.”

Harry went to open the folder but Eggsy’s hand stopped him, pulling Harry’s eyes upward to meet his.

“If it isn’t too late for me, it’s not too late for you,” Eggsy said, and with a pat to Harry’s wrist added, “It’s about time for the Gentleman’s Guide to change, don’t ya think?”

And Eggsy stood up and walked away.

Curious, Harry opened the folder and on top sat a photo of you, the pose almost the same as the one secure in his home but the wrinkles at the corners of your eyes and the laugh lines along the corners of your lips gave away the passing of time.

But you were still breathtaking. God, you were breathtaking.

Harry pushed the tears in his eyes down just a little to find your marriage certificate, nothing he hadn’t already known, but behind it he found something a new. Six years ago, a divorce filing and court paperwork documenting just what a cheating bastard your husband had been. Harry knew he shouldn’t be happy that life that treated you so poorly, but part of him felt justified. He thought that man was too cocky for his own good, too sure of how handsome he was and of the power he had over you.

But it seemed you turned out alright. A fat settlement came your way and you bought a house just a tube stop away from his own home. Your work was thriving, your most recent pictures seemed to depict many a fun night out with a handful of friends, and some charity work too, exactly the kind of person he remembered you being. He had been doing his best to keep the world a good place for you, and you had been doing the same, even if it wasn’t for him.

But it was the last few documents that really got to him: security footage from outside your house, the camera able to see into your kitchen. And beside your sink, in the place it always had been, hung a picture of Harry holding you tight in his full regalia. A shot mark marred the middle of the photo, but the intention was still clear. And in a series of photos, Harry could make out your form in the kitchen, your finger moving to your lips, and finally you touching his face the way you had when he was a recruit. And for the third time in his life, his chest was so tight he thought he wouldn’t be able to breath.

Maybe some days you needed him, too.

Harry didn’t think. He just moved. He left the wedding and the folder, his friends and his life, and an hour later he found himself in front of the address that had been listed as your home. The lights were on and in the kitchen he could see the faint outline of frame that he just knew held his own face.

He walked the steps, tears already threatening to leave his eyes and wet his cheeks. His heart was beating faster than it had in years but he didn’t take it as a sign to stop but rather a sign to keep going.

And so he knocked.

When you opened the door, your face was just as soft and vibrant as he remembered. Not a single mark of age made you less beautiful, but just enhanced all the lovely parts of your bone structure his fingers spend years memorizing. You were still in your work clothes except for your shoes were soft slippers covering your toes in a strange combination of serious and comfort that made Harry smile. This was you all right, in front of him and still the same as the person he fell in love with so many years ago.

“Ha-harry?” you gasped as your eyes moved up and down his body, settling on his eyes. He realized then how silly he must look too in his wedding attire at this odd hour of night, but then again the man you remembered was often in uniform.

Harry tried his best to smile more but he simply couldn’t. His lips quivered and his mouth grew dry. All he could do was nod in affirmation.

He watched as your shoulders fell and your hands moved forward hesitantly to touch his face.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, gently brushing at his skin. The feel of you was still magnetic, smooth and soft and warm, pulling him into your orbit.

“And I you,” you said, laughing at the realizing that this conversation had happened once before. You laughed too, though it was more of a hiccup between your tears. His hand reached for your cheek on instinct, wiping away the tears that collected there.

After a moment of just staring, moving closer and closer, unsure of what was right or real, you pulled away.

“Do you—do you want to come in?” you said with hesitation, quickly gesturing to the open door behind you and the faint sound of television going in the background.

Harry felt the butterflies collecting in his stomach at the sight of your beautiful face staring at him once more in the flesh, the manifestation of endless nights alone in his bed.

“I would.”

And with that you grabbed his hand, unsure until he wrapped his fingers once more around your own, and walked in into your home.

As the door shut behind him, Harry felt the large chunks of his broken heart that had been severed since he took in that crestfallen look on your face the night he left slowly begin to sew themselves back together. And come back together they would in time. What was twenty-six years, when you get to spend our whole lives together?

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt, @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug Kingsman tags: @allonsymexgirl, @eiensteiner, @thecaptainsgingersnap, @madamcadaver, @doct0rstrange, @ratwrites Harry Hart tags: @un-education, @lexicon04, @bananzaa, @consultingdoctorwholock, @sparrowharkness, @newconnorwhodis

#harry hart #harry hart x reader #kingsman #kingsman imagine #harry hart imagine #kingsman the secret service #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #reader insert #x reader

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kazbrkker · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 3: Embedded

Chapter summary: With the help of the Aces, the Urzikstan militia successfully gained a step closer to their mission. Meanwhile, Alex pieced together the scraps to uncover a hint of how Farah and Hadir knew Alexis five years ago.

Warnings: mentions of captivity, trauma recovery, weapons and violence.

26 OCTOBER 2019, 1530 "Alexis" and "Alex", Codename Aces CIA with Urzik Militia Aqtabi, Urzikstan.

Alexis adjusted the headdress for Alex, checking if it properly covered his face. He snatched her wrist mid-air, staring in concern, "Alena, huh. Haven't heard that in years. Thought she was dead."

Alena was Alexis' latest alias, the second alias created in the CIA and the fifth alias in her career. Seeing how her aliases were on a strictly need-to-know basis, it was shocking that both Farah and Hadir would know her by name. Especially since Alexis had a habit of only introducing herself as Saint.

The silver lining was that Alex could at least pinpoint when Alexis met the militia leader and brother. Five years ago, then known as Alena, her cover was blown.

It almost cost Alexis her life, barely escaping from the clutches of the mob alive. Alex led the covert search in Moscow for her, but found no evidence of her presence anywhere he looked. He desperately combed through every possible lead, refusing to stop even for just a second. Alex searched high and low everywhere for a full five months all while she was in custody of the mob. Until one day, she mysteriously turned up alive and patched up in St. Petersburg.

She never talked about what transpired in her captivity, nor did he pushed. But it thoroughly changed her, left psychological scars so deeply embedded in her that even Alex couldn't reach.

"She is." Alexis reaffirmed, stuffing his fleeting thoughts back into their respective spaces in his brain. Their gaze connected, nodded reassuringly as she gently pried away from Alex's tight grip, "For everyone's sake, she's dead."

"She must be. You took such a long time recovering from–"

"Alex, don't." She whispered, words coated with a layer of unexpected sternness that stunned the two. "Alena is dead. End of story." The words rolled off her tongue with a shred of hostility. She turned on her heel, fixing on her own headscarf wordlessly to end the conversation. Farah stood by the window gathering intel from uncle Tariq, they had a limited window to hit the airbase and they needed to take it.

Alex sighed worriedly, chasing after his best friend. The trio checked their ears comms, concealed their sidearms and headed out. Barkov's propaganda was blasted all over the loudspeakers. There wasn't anywhere you could hide from the dictator's brainwashing audio. Blended in as civilians, they walked down an abandoned, bombed-out bazaar swarmed with heavy military presence. Alexis' face scrunched in disgust, steering clear from the soldiers with guard dogs, "I hate dogs."

The soldiers freely abused the civilians, yelling and beating. She forcibly dug into her palms to maintain her composure when she witnessed one soldier dragging a civilian into a store, gunshots shortly followed. The said soldier walked out, wiping his blood-stained boots off concrete blocks in disgust. The blood on his boots repulsed him more than his ability to mindlessly take a human's life.

It was a mess, all of it — almost Hell on Earth. As blood-boiling and downright revolting it was, both CIA agents had seen and walked through worse. By now, it only served as a living memento of why she existed. Cold, she knows.

Later, the three of them lined up for labor work to blend in. Alexis tailed behind Farah, sneaking to a side door while Alex was isolated to carry cinder blocks. They reunited on the other side, ambushing an unaware, strayed soldier who was ruthlessly punching a vulnerable woman. Alex nippily stabbed him with the knife in his boot.

Farah assisted the woman to her feet while Alexis stayed for lookout. "Karim?"

"Stay safe, sister." She was thankful they got to the woman before the soldier could have done more. They broke open a door that led into another alley. "You're resourceful. Good." Farah caught a triumphant wink from Alexis, bearing full credit. "Let's go. I have contacts posted just ahead. They'll have more explosives for us. A bigger blast will pull more forces away from their base."

The small entourage defended each other's six, stealthily hiding behind a truck. Four soldiers stood where Farah's men were supposed to be. "Shit. Barkov's soldiers have found my contacts. They may be dead already."

"That means they are already on high alert." They'd have to kill these men to bypass them.

"Can't go loud, we need a suppressor."

"Find an oil filter. It will silence your weapons. Check civilian cars. I'll keep watch on the guards." Farah stayed as lookout.

Alex and Alexis snuck into a nearby garage filled with civilian vehicles. "You look for the oil filters, I'll go find some makeshift thread adaptors."

"Yes ma'am," He singsonged, the tension between them already dissolved. They had a code, personal feelings would never be brought into the field. It was a lethal mistake that both of them knew better.

Alexis attached an oil filter through a hollow steel screw bolt, shaking her sidearm to check its stability. She grinned when it didn't rattle, score.

"That'll do. Nicely done," Alex praised.

"I know. What would you do without me?"

He winked, "I ask myself that every day."

They met Farah back at the truck, "Alex, flank right and take the two. Alexis and I will take the rest."

Upon two muffled shots, Alexis dropped the soldier in her crosshairs. She fired twice, once to break through the filter and another between her target's eyes. Unfortunately, the suppressor did not silence their gunshots enough, evident from the new soldier bursting through the door.

And he had Alexis in his shot.

She barely heard the whisper of her name before she ran forward, kicking his kneecaps to debilitate him.

"Alexis, move! I have a shot." She heard Alex over the comms.

Ignoring him, Alexis skillfully ducked a swing to swipe the combat knife in her boot, immaculately stabbing into his larynx in one clean move. She calmly dug deeper, laying the almost dead but silent soldier on the ground softly after she heard a muffled crack. Now, he was dead.

"I rest my case." She cleaned her blade from the bloodied mess, eyes crinkling at Alex's overprotective nature. He'd always have her back.

In the next building, they lodged some bullets in a few more soldiers and successfully retrieved Farah's explosives. They were ready for phase two of the plan – bomb the airbase.

"I'm sorry about your contacts," Alex said, a statement more than an apology.

Regardless, Farah accepted with a nod. "We have the explosives. Their sacrifice will not be in vain. Hide the gun. We're going back outside. Follow me, I'll lead."

Alexis understood Alex's detachment, sharing it. From young, they were hardened by bloodshed, numbed. The first lesson they taught in special ops was compartmentalization and emotional detachment. Having served in tier-one task forces, it was hard to let anything faze them and throw them off course. Years of witnessing murders and getting their hands dirty changed them.

That remained the case. Until they stepped out.

Hell on Earth. Alexis decided as they came upon a staged execution – three civilians hung alive by a crane. They were subjected to helplessly watch it unfold. She bit the insides of her cheeks, seeing more accused awaiting their death sentence.

"This is a god damn war crime." Alex gritted out in disgust. This whole scene was mortifying repulsive. Under her head scarf, her lips were slightly parted and staggered breathing. A rare sight of lost composure for the female agent yet nobody could witness.

Around them, no one dared to weep, even though the immoral and unjust scene would command angry tears for anyone. Shedding a tear meant sympathy for the opposition and in Barkov's eyes, sympathy was treason.

Freedom, a concept unfathomed by the great evils in the world. Evils like Barkov, each thoroughly convinced they were guided by the angels. On the right side of history.

"Punishment, for the stolen gas... Barkov blames us for stealing it." Farah stated plainly with a lack of emotions in her tone. Hardened by years of warfare too.

Alexis' fingers glossed over the cold metal of her .357 Magnum, thinking how justified would it be to lodge a bullet in the perpetrators this instant. It wasn't until Alex nudged her forward before she realised she was standing in the middle of a pathway, gawking. Almost attracted unnecessary attention to the group.

That moment, the two CIA agents found conviction in their connected gaze. Bonded by a silent agreement of a new crusade that they now believe in. Clearly aware that they were treading a dangerous line of emotional attachment, but could care less. They continued walking.

"What can we do?" Alex questioned, a newfound resolve in his tone. The empathy in their voices was clear as day.

"Accomplish our mission and put an end to Barkov's cruelty forever."

They agreed, forever it is. Hopefully this time, forever truly meant... forever.

The second part of their mission was easier, for Alex. As a man, he could use his cover to deliver cinder blocks into sensitive areas that she couldn't enter. While he had the easy way out, she climbed along the structures to reach the chopper she had to destroy. They managed to plant the C4 charges without alerting any guards.

Farah, Alex, and Alexis regrouped shortly in a safe zone, away from hostiles. "Blow the charges."

"Fire in the hole." Sharp bursts of explosion sounded without delay, the acrid smell of smoke penetrating their senses. Sirens immediately went off, and soon, majority of the military started pouring in to the source.

"It worked, multiple trucks heading in," Alexis reported, crouching behind a metal structure that concealed her. "Let's wait for them to pass."

The overwhelming trucks of soldiers played to their advantage as they crawled underneath their vehicles to escape. Escaping right under their nose, but not before leaving parting gifts of explosives under the engine. Their seemingly impossible escape was quick, under and out. The hardest part was over.

Just as they ran into an alley, they were spotted by an unexpected group of soldiers.

"Shit! Go! Get back!" Farah yelled and they pivoted immediately to bolt out of the alley. Farah flung her explosive-filled backpack in the soldiers' direction and detonated it in a desperate act, blowing their civilian cover. The sharp shrill of explosion attracted more soldiers to their positions.

They followed Farah and ran into the opposite direction, snaking along buildings in attempts to avoid the sprays of bullets. A slight burn in Alexis' arm temporarily slowed her down until Alex pulled her forward, yelling at her to keep running.

Another truck of soldiers skidded to a stop from their left, "We're getting boxed in!"

"I'm going to blow it! Right, go right!" More explosives went off at close range, causing an irritatable ringing in their ears. They expertly manoeuvred in and out of buildings, successfully evading the soldiers.

"Holy shit!"

"You're telling me! Farah, I sure as hell hope you have a plan!" Alexis replied, ignoring the intensified burn in her left arm and leapt out a window.

A putrid, horrifying smell of decaying corpses punched all the air out of their lungs as Farah unlatched a locked gate. At least a dozen bodies were casually littered across the dying grass, accompanied by flies and maggots.

"Farah, what the hell is this?" Alex spat in disgust.

"This is a damn massacre..." She almost couldn't believe what she was staring at – a mass grave. Only Barkov didn't even have the decency to bury the dead. The fire in her heart only burned bigger.

"More of Barkov's war crimes." Their ears perked at the sound of foreign soldiers conversing in the building ahead. "They're coming. Get down. Hide your guns, there are too many."

All of them dropped onto the ground, arms twisted to imitate the dead bodies. Alexis took a deep breath and held it, lying deadly still. Just she shut her eyes, her gaze averted to the decaying body of a child right where she laid. The image remained etched in her mind even with her eyes pinched tight, the outline of it was something she would never forget. A new unwanted memory that would join the other collections of horrifying scenes she witnessed in her years.

A god damn child. Caught into someone else's war.

She was the last in line, behind Alex and Farah. The gradual softer footsteps against the rustling of grass suggested most of the men moved forward.

A pained scream almost escaped from her lips when one of the soldiers accidentally stepped on her left arm, the full weight of his step nearly crushing her bones. He laughed, chattering in his native language about how this bitch got in the way.

"Alexis, what the hell happened?" Alex frantically whispered over the comms.

"Bastard almost damn near broke my arm. I'm fine." She winced, crawling up to catch up to them.

Farah and Alex eliminated the remaining three soldiers on guard. "Quick, get up this ladder, the tunnels are just up ahead!"

She braved through the piercing pain and climbed the ladder, refusing to let Alex examine her injuries. Her spitfire personality mumbled a 'we can bitch about it later' as she went up. Well aware of her stubborn nature, he suppressed a sigh and only said, "Stay in front of me, I'm not asking."

Alexis obliged, truthfully too lazy for a debate. They hopped over a stone wall and grinned as more air reinforcements rushed to take their bait. Another left turn later, the safehouse was finally in their sights.

The front door, however, was wide open. "Stop! Shit, Tariq's door is open."

"Where's Tariq?"

"Dead. He would never abandon his post."

A pull of sorrow tugged at Alexis' heartstrings, unable to fathom a fraction of how Farah even felt. Although they were both soldiers, Alexis could never begin to understand how it felt to lose people she cared about every day. It only deepened the amount of respect she had for Farah. Weapons raised, they scoured their surroundings before entering the empty safehouse.

"Clear! Let's head down, get to Hadir..."

"You lost good people today," Alex said sincerely, sharing a look with Farah.

There was a look of longing in the commander's eyes as she stared at the now empty guard post, but it disappeared quickly as it came. "That is the cost of this war. Now, let's take Barkov's airbase so their deaths are not in vain."

"We're in for a hell of a fight."

"So are they. Hadir has a plan."

Alexis nodded at their statements, earnestness in her words. "We'll get them, Farah."

Alex halted the overly eager agent with a raised eyebrow. He climbed down the ladder first. When it was her turn, he grabbed her legs and jerked downwards, causing her good arm to slip from the ladder bars.

She fell right into his waiting embrace, hands on her waist to slowly settle her down. With her injured arm, she punched into his chest as though to prove a point.

"I know that's revenge for this afternoon," She said with a mischievous glint, thinking back to earlier when she angered him with her poor joke. She patted his shoulder teasingly and headed into the dark tunnels, nursing her sore arm. The tunnels echoed with her words. "Never pegged you for a petty fool, Alex."

"Maybe I'm just caring for my best friend. Where's the gratitude?" In complete darkness, she felt herself being lifted off the ground.

With an arm under her knees and another supporting her back, Alex begged her to stop thrashing about and promised he would let her down before they entered the light. He knew her belief about being a strong independent woman, and how much she hated sympathy tossed her way in moments of weakness – especially when she was injured. But anything he could do to ease the pain off his best friend, he would.

"You can shove that gratitude up your ass, Alex." She stopped fighting him, head resting on his muscular chest. Since nobody could witness her weakness in these dark tunnels, she briefly allowed herself to relax for a split moment.

"Starting to reconsider if I can live without you, Lexi."

Farah followed behind the bickering pair with a knowing smile.

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. masterlist here. want to be tagged? let me know!

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nowisnotimeforcaution · 4 years ago

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I wasn’t going to say anything but as a Person with Brown skin I can. Throughout my life I have been many shades of brown. Winters I get pretty light, so light my white friend can tan browner then me. In the summers I’m darker then the rest of the year. While I’m still darker then most of the lighter clones I grew up around many shades in my own family.

I also want to talk about genetics. Now I’m no expert and this is a fictional world. But I’ve done some research on genetics and color with different species. White is not always a good color with genetics. It can bring many different health and mental disorders. (Some dog breeds, reptiles, horses in my experience) Humans don’t really fall in this category but roll with it for a second. If the genetic code of Jango is being stretched there is going to be a change in the way the clones look. Paler skin could be a genetic abnormality? Falls into line with Crosshair and Tech mostly, Echo is being kept alive by machines and should never go back to his normal skin tone. Plus it’s a cartoon he’s supposed to look dead.

Caleb I also believe is an interesting subject. They made Kanan to be a brown man. So why is he Cal Kestis??? My explanation is they don’t want him to look the same to give him a way to survive. If he looked the same then anyone could have recognized him. But with a drastic change in appearance he can easily become a different person.

I wasn’t bothered by any when I saw the episode. But there are a lot of angry white people on the internet. Young too. The vibe is off.

I’ve seen a lot of discourse over the Bad Batch’s apparent whitewashing of its characters. More accurately, I’ve seen a lot of white people complaining about how the main characters are too white to be Maori. And while I’m inclined to jump into this discourse and give my own two cents, I also recognize that I’m white.

I’ve seen many opinions from people of color who are uncomfortable that white people are trying to decide what skin colors it’s valid for Maori people to be. I’ve decided to stay quiet and support the people who actually know what they’re talking about when it comes to skin tone and race by lifting their voices up rather than drowning them out.

In the mean time, let’s just enjoy the Bad Batch! And if people of color speak out against any whitewashing they believe is being done, then by all means, let’s be there to support them.

#the bad batch #clones

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goldiesugar · 7 years ago

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Drafting the perfect dating profile can be daunting. It’s impossible to know exactly what someone else wants, but you can attract potentials by representing yourself the right way. You can easily charm your way into a mutually beneficial relationship by following these guidelines.

List your interests.

This is easier said than done. When faced with the challenge of listing hobbies, most people aren’t sure what to note. Be specific, but not so unreachable that you drive people away. If you like to read, drop your favorite author. If you like to eat out, mention your go-to restaurant or cuisine. The only way to find something in common is to mention the details. Otherwise, you just like to eat food. Spoiler alert: Everyone eats food.

Mention your values.

Are you relationship minded or just looking for fun? Do you want an allowance or just lavish dates? These are exactly the sorts of things you should list when laying out your ideals. Acknowledge what you want, and also what you don’t. Non-smokers only? Must love dogs? The quickest way to a dating failure is a clash of codes that could have been avoided by being up front. The point of an arrangement is for everyone to get exactly what they want, so be honest.

Real talk.

Online dating frauds exist. From the scheming catfish to the sexual predator, it’s a jungle out there. Honesty is your best asset since most sugar seekers can smell bullshit. Starting a relationship with lies will only make things difficult, and lead to a disappointing end. If you tell the truth, you are free to be yourself.

Sexy time.

Don’t be overtly sexual, but a little sensuality goes a long way. If you like to wear thigh highs and stilettos, that visual is better than a skanky line about your sex position preferences. Hints and subtle sexual nodes get them interested, so leave them wanting more instead of bearing all.

Spell check.

Both sides of an arrangement want an intelligent counterpart. The quickest way to turn off an intellectual is a spelling error or improper syntax. Good grammar is a rarity in millennials. I recently read a girl’s profile who said she was a “Collage girl wanting to be spoilt.” Perhaps she should have paid more attention in English 101.

Now the most important ones to get succeed.

Pictures

While a picture can be worth a thousand words, your pictures are going to be worth one of two: Hot or Not. Images are the first thing people see to determine their interest level. Make it easy for them to get a feel for your appearance with these tips.

No group shots. Online daters are not detectives and don’t have time to figure out which one is you. It’s just confusing. This is online dating, not Where’s Waldo.

Steer clear of action shots. Some might say this helps people get to know your hobbies, but save that for your profile text. A picture of you skiing where you’re the size of an ant sends the message “I look great from a distance.” More than likely, people want to see what you look like close up.

You are not a duck. A recent phenomenon in which girls impersonate ducks by pursing their lips in an unnatural way is sweeping the nation. It is no wonder ducks are commonly shot down. Do not get caught in the crosshairs with a duckface.

Clarity is vital. Blurry pictures might mask your blemishes, but this little soap opera trick won’t get you any sugar. A fuzzy or darkened image only leaves them wondering if you look pixelated and washed out in real life. Let’s hope you don’t.

Get Current. Even if your most flattering image is from several years ago, please choose a more recent picture. Dyed your hair or just got it cut? Posting a current picture of these changes will reduce uncertainty, and increase contact from members.

Ditch the shades. One picture with sunglasses is okay, but you want to reveal your eyes. Concerned about privacy? These tips aren’t for everyone, but if you want more profile traction, take off your sunnies and let your eyes shine. You can always share these photos privately.

Avoid cliches. Do you love life? Do you like having fun? I’m sure you do, but those are not the pieces of information to add to your profile. This is a one stop shop for potentials, so don’t litter it with overused and subsequently meaningless phrases. While you’re out “living life to the fullest,” someone is skimming over your cliche ridden profile and moving on to the next one. So skip the YOLO, and get creative with your wording.

No negativity. Your profile is a chance to showcase all the reasons people would want to date you. Try not to list your baggage and self-deprecating flaws. Even if you’re being honest, an unfavorable financial situation or your inability to find a decent partner is not profile material. Instead, say you are looking to improve your career, and still searching for the right person. You can stay truthful without being a Negative Nancy.

Don’t be too humble. There is a fine line between confidence and arrogance. Walk the line and even blur it, but don’t be a braggart. Give yourself credit where credit is due. What are your talents? What makes you a catch? Inserting musical ability or special skills can be the difference between a pass and a partner.

Don’t rush it. Mozart didn’t compose Requiem in an hour, and you probably won’t execute a perfect profile with haste. Take notes of things you want to disclose, then make a first draft. Since each profile gets manually screened by the app support, it takes up to 24 hours to get posted. Therefore, it’s in your best interest to have it edited and perfected before submission. If you want someone to invest time and sugar in you, devote at least some effort to your profile.

Hopefully, this provides some clarity for the wayward sugar seeker on a quest to compose a perfect profile.

~ Bleuet

#bleuet chats #sugar blog #strategies & tips

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bigbadwolf619 · 7 years ago

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MRKZ Chapter 2 The Bear And The Wolf

{5 Days before meeting Maxy at the Black Claw Island Base} Black Claw Assassin: {female in black tied up to a tree wakes up} Uuuuh...huh? Where...where am I? Ricky: {sitting on a pile of dead bodies that were Black Claw Assassins while eating a sandwich} Mmm, sometimes when you kill you get really hungry Black Claw Assassin: Grrrgh! {struggles & tries getting out} Ricky: Now be straight with me, what are doing in our house in Vale and also how did where we live, tell me and I promise you won't turn into a human banana peel {takes another bite on the sandwich}...go on Black Claw Assassin: Like I would tell you anything heretic! Ricky: You know you're guy here said that before slit his throat {picks out 1 of the dead assassins waving his hand about} you see? Black Claw Assassin: {looks nervous} I would rather die than tell you anything! Ricky: {sighs as he gets his blade out} Typical femme fatales Black Claw Assassin: That is sexist! Ricky: Well it's what I always encounter in my previous life, though I'm kinda happy you're resisting {grins evily} I have an excuse to go sadistic Black Claw Assassin: S-Sadistic? Ricky: See the Grizzly Huntsman is tough, powerful and owned your Boss before, me I butcher everyone who is an enemy, I love cutting things, and you cute girls make lovely sound each time I slice a bit of skin off each time Black Claw Assassin: {whimpers} Ricky: {cuts a part of her top off revealing her midriff} Especially the navels! {pokes her stomach with his blade} Black Claw Assassin: Stop! We knew where you lived through the G.R.I.M.Ms and Atlas Networks! We found out you and your brother was alive 3 years ago! We tried to pick our moment for revenge unti Lord Ryzen's recovery! Ricky: Ryzen?! Ryzen is dead! Don't lie to me! Black Claw Assassin: Lord Ryzen was resurrected 5 years ago but the damages the Grizzly Huntsman inflicted on him has ceased his regeneration, Lord Ryzen is immortal! Ricky:...So Maxy was right, damn I wish I never said he was paranoid, thanks for the info babe {sheathes his blade} oh and I was bluffing about my sadistic side, I would never damage any sexy navels, even from scum like you Black Claw Assassin: You tricked me?! Ricky: Yep, hehe, when you return to people tell them 2 brothers will kill them all, not 1 Black Claw Assassin: Grrr! Damn you Thunderwolf! Ricky: I'm go hunt down your Generals and help out Max, sayanora {teleports with lightning} Black Claw Assassin: Wait you can't just leave me here! {hears some Grimms coming by}...Oh no... {5 days later in Hawe Village} Mama Laark: Boy you are lucky to be alive, most of those cuts were fatal, why you gotta gamble with death all the time, you wanna leave your Mama behind so badly Maxy: Mama I don't wanna leave you, these guys are just as much of a threat as Salem, just wondering whether they are workin together Ricky: {sitting on a chair leaning} They're not, they're actually hoping she gts what she wants Maxy: Wait if Salem gets those Relics she'll end mankind, the Claw wants to take over Remnant, why would they let her be? Their plans differ Ricky: I don't know but General Tier told me that with Salem's help they'll get what they want Maxy: Tier? You found him? Ricky: And killed him, him and General Schlange Maxy: Schlange as well? How did you know about them? Ricky: I found your board Maxy:...Dude you went in my room? Not cool bro Ricky: Hey I needed to find out the truth ok, I had some doubts on the Claw's comeback, but it's true, Ryzen is back, he's plotting something Mama Laark: Well you boys better be careful Maxy: Mama? Mama Laark: I know you boys well, you fixate on somethin you never let go until it's dealt with {puts her hand on his shoulder} Max you're a Protector and Guardian just like your Pappy, you're strong and determined like him, you were a born a Guardian Maxy: Thanks Mama, I won't dishonour the the family Mama Laark: And you Rick are Guardian, I don't care if you ain't Faunas or blood related, you my baby and that's that, you both guard Remnant from scum like Salem and Ryzen, the Gods are gonna be standin and watchin you boys, they'll guide you Ricky: We won't disappoint you Mama, we'll kill every last 1 of them in the name of the Laarks Mama Laark: Then you have my blessins boys, show them what happens when you unleash the Wrath of Hawe, you brothers stay close and protect each other no matter what, don't you dare think about dyin out there Maxy: We won't Mama, it'll be their graves you'll see soon Mama Laarks: And it won't be cheap gravestones either I hope {in Maxy's room} Maxy: {checks his door} Man you broke my lock? Ricky: The window was caged, so I used our mini bomb gadget from G.R.I.M.Ms for the door Maxy: Dammit Rick, you use them like toys Ricky: Speak for yourself Mr Yang-Cam Maxy:...How'd you know about that? Ricky: I know a lot of things Max, nothing escapes these ears Maxy: Shut up man {looks at his board of Black Claw Targets} So I've just killed General Bär- Ricky: And I got General Tier and Schlange Maxy: So that's 3 Claw Generals, but how many more is there? Ricky: Well thanks to a informant I got info saying there are 2 left General Hund and Katze, although we don't exactly know who General Katze is, we do know of Hund Maxy: Really? What do you know? Ricky: Well you know that Garrison outside of Hawe? The 1 leading is General Hund, he's currently trying track me down and he's hoping to ambush you on your comeback Maxy: Meaning he doesn't know I'm back in Hawe, he won't expect me Ricky: You wanna go get him him now? Maxy: The sooner the better, then we can start searching for Katze Ricky: Cool, I'll go scout ahead {walks off} Maxy: How's Kalista? Ricky: {stops}...We...broke up Maxy: What? Why?...Oh is it because of the Captain? Ricky: Partially, I mean he would rip out my spine if anything happen to her but...she was the 1 for me, 1 and only Maxy: Then why did you give her up? Ricky: I nearly lost her at Beacon, I nearly lost my mind, it doesn't matter what her Dad thinks, if I lost her I'd break, I love her so much, I've never felt like this even in my previous life, being a killer and assassin took many emotions out of me, stopped me being a human and more of a monster, but she...made me feel human again, that is why I can't be with her, I don't want to endanger her ever again, I can't protect, I'm only good at killing, I'm no Protector like you Max, much as I want to be Maxy: Hm, you are Protector Rick, after all I'm still here thanks to you, plus you made sure Mama Laark was safe, you may not feel it now Rick, but soon you'll realize {taps his back} Now come on, we got a dog to kill Ricky: Right, err you mind opening the window? Maxy: Can't you use a door like a normal person? Ricky:... Maxy:...{sighs as puts a code in his scroll that opens the window cage} Ricky: Thanks bro {leaps out & teleports} Maxy: Hm {picks up his Staff & puts it on his back then slowly picks up a picture of MRKZ at Beacon}...Kali...Zal, sorry for bringing you guys into this {puts it down & walks off} {at An Atlas Garrison} Maxy: {top of a hill overlooking the Garrison} Hmm Ironwood stopped the Garrison system a long time ago Ricky: Yet there's 1 right next to Hawe {passes the binoculars} look over there Maxy: {looks with the binoculars} Aww man Ricky: Those are the successors of the Paladins, they're the new Valkyrie Units, they're a lot more agile and they can fly, the leader is manned while the others run by an A.I Maxy: How man "Atlas" Soldiers are here Ricky: 24, there are 3 Ursas and a pack of Beowolfs in cages, we could use them for a distraction, as for the Valkyries, I'm not sure, their detection is too good even I had time trying to avoid their crosshairs Maxy: Hmm and where's Hund? Ricky: Couldn't find him, but my informant says he should be here Maxy: Hmm, than that means he's in the manned Valkyrie, that's our target Ricky: What about the other Valkyries? Maxy: If they're run by an A.I then there's no doubt there is an airship running them, Rick you find that Airship and take it down, I'll release the Grimm on the troops Ricky: Got it {puts his mask on} good luck killing Hund {teleports} Maxy: Hm, you wait Hund, you'll be joining the other 3 soon {leaps off disappearing} {on the Atlas Airship} Fake Atlas Soldier: {walks through a corridor}...Hmm? {looks around}...Must be my imagination {turns around} Ricky: I get that a lot {grabs him & flips him to the ground putting his knee on his back while locking his arm behind him & holds a blade to his neck} Fake Atlas Soldier: Gaaargh! What are you- Ricky: {whispers} Ssshhh, I'll cut your throat open {checks the tattoo on his neck} Well-Well, you guys are really coming out of your comfort zones aren't you? Fake Atlas Soldier: I don't know what you are talking about Ricky: Come on, your tattoo is from the Claw dumbass, don't play me Fake Atlas Soldier:...Hm, you damn heathens will die soon Ricky: Hm cute, never heard that 1 before {stabs his neck covering his mouth} Fake Atlas Soldier: Mmgh! Mmgh...{drops} Ricky: {inspects his body & pulls out his scroll} Bingo {takes a picture of him with his scroll & then his outfit uses a hologram mimicking the fake agent} Thank you G.R.I.M.Ms {walks off hiding the body} {back at the Garrison} Maxy: {sneaks in the bushes speaking quietly} Come on Rick, take down that ship already General Hund: {in a Valkyrie} Any news on the Laarks? Lord Ryzen demands a report! Maxy: Oh we're here, you'll know soon enough {dashes to a Fake Atlas Soldier fast behind a tree snapping his neck} Valkyrie Unit 01: {detects movement speaking in a feminine voice} Unknown movement detected, searching {moves near the tree} Maxy: {hiding} Damn {pulls up the soldier & leans him out the tree} Valkyrie Unit 01: Friendly detected, resuming guard mode {walks off} Maxy: Heh {sneaks off stealthily taking out other soldiers} {in the Airship} Ricky: {walks into the control room} Jackpot, now where are the controls? {more soldiers were roaming around} Ricky: {walks past them pretending to be 1 of them} Ah geez, new model {pulls out his scroll} wonder if I can still hack it? {tries to use the hacking app}...ah screw it {leaves a bomb underneathe it} Hey you know where the bathroom is? Fake Atlas Soldier: Ugh, damn newbies, go down the corridor 2nd right, you can't miss it Ricky: Thanks buddy {walks off} Fake Atlas Soldier: Don't get lost...idiot {at the Garrison} Valkyrie Unit 02: Warning, unknown substance detected, scanning for possible harm Maxy: {hiding behind a cage} Heh, oh don't worry, it's harmful more than you think tin can Valkyrie Unit 02: Warning, system malfunctionzzzzzzzzeeebeezzzzz! {goes berserk} Maxy: {holds up a pen that had a substance in it for machines to go haywire} Gods praise the future Valkyrie Unit 03: Valkyrie Unit 02 has defected General Hund: Huh?! Take it down! Valkyrie Units: {blasts down the berserk Unit} Maxy: {dashes & breaks the cages of the Grimms} Fake Atlas Soldiers: Wha-what?! Grimms: GRRRRR! {all start attacking} Fake Atlas Soldiers: Gaaaaargh! General Hund: All units! Take down the subjects! {suddenly the airship blows up in the sky} Maxy: Heh, nicely done Rick Valkyrie Units: {all shut down & fall} General Hund: Huh?! What is going on?! Maxy: {walks out of hiding} What do you think General? General Hund: Laark...when did you comeback? Maxy: Yesterday actually, unfortunately for you my brother can teleport around Remnant easily General Hund: Curses...well even so, I am in a new type of mech you can't beat Maxy: It's no Paladin Angelica that's for sure General Hund: Grrr, for Lord Ryzen I will bring him your head! Maxy: That's ok! I'll send him yours! {pulls out his Staff spinning then goes in a stance} General Hund: Laaaaark! {fires the huge beam cannons from the Valkyrie} Maxy: {leaps away & bounces from many trees like a pinball dodging the shots} General Hund: {locks on him & fires many missiles} Dodge this! Maxy: Heh, don't need to! {goes in an open stance as his body flashes yellow} Come on! {all the missiles hit him but bounce away blowing up everything around him} General Hund: Grrrrr! {right hand summons an energy blade} Time to die Laark! Maxy: After you! {bounces fast towards him} Haaaaaar! General Hund: {flies towards him about to strike} Rrrraaaaaaar! {clashes blades with him} Rrrrr! Maxy: Grrrrgh! {struggles getting pushed back slowly} General Hund: You do not stand a chance! Maxy: Grrrrgh...{grins} Oh really? {eyes go black & yellow} Rrrrr! {starts pushing back} General Hund: Grrgh! What?! Maxy: You should have learned from your Boss's death, even in a toaster you can't beat me! {deflects him off} General Hund: {flies in the air} We'll see {starts firing a laser chaingun at him} Maxy: Huur! {stabs the ground as he summons dome kinetic forcefield around him with his Staff deflecting the shots} General Hund: Grrr! Just die already! {dives down with his blade} Rrraaar! Maxy: {smirks as he instantly dodges side} General Hund: Grrr! {tries to strike him rapidly} Maxy: {instantly dodges each of his strikes without much effort looking like he isn't moving much} General Hund: Grrr! Hold still you little rat! Maxy: Correction {eye flashes as he instantly cuts his blade arm off} I'm a bear General Hund: Grrgh! Dammit! Maxy: {disappears} General Hund: Grrr! {gets out his cannon} Come on out Laark! {his other arm gets cut off instantly} Wha?! {leg gets instantly cut off} Waaaaah! {trips & tries flying off} You! Maxy: {leaps on his back} Grrrrrr! {grips his wings} General Hund: W-What are doing?! Stop! Maxy: Rrrrrrrr! {teeth sharpen as he his muscles tense} Rrrrrrraaaaaaaar! {tears off his wings} General Hund: Why you-waaaaah! {falls on his back} Aargh! Maxy: {lands on him & starts cutting into the door repeatedly with his staff} Rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr! General Hund: No-No-Nooooooo! Maxy: {breaks open the pilot door} Grrrrr! Here's Maxy! General Hund: {gasps} Maxy: {stabs him as he squeeze the Staff's trigger & causes a kinetic explosion within the Valkyrie} {in dark & smokey realm} Maxy: What the? Where am I? General Hund: {standing behind him} You Maxy: Where are we? General Hund: This is how we survive the centuries, when we are killed we transfer our soul to the nearest person, since you were the 1 to kill me I transferred my soul to your body! Now it will be mine! Maxy: Grrrr! You'll never have my body! You've cheated death but this time you won't comeback! General Hund: Too late for that Laark! At least you will joining your old squad soon {appears bigger & shadowy} this is the power the Claw possesses, not even Salem can pull this off! Maxy: Well there's a 1st time for everything {big yellow Ursa appears behind him} your mistake was trying to take over me General Hund: {gasps} Giant Ursa: RRRRRRRRR! {lunges at him chewing & ripping him apart} General Hund: Waaah! Waaaaaaaargh! Maxy: When you see the God of Destruction, tell him Maxy Laark sent you to his realm! {back to reality} Maxy: Hm, have fun in the underworld Ricky: {sitting on a tree} Wow, looks like I missed the party, you ok? Maxy: {looks back at the wrecked Valkyrie with General Hund}...Oh yeah, never felt better, let's get outta here Ricky: Right {grabs him & teleports them both back to Hawe} {back in Hawe Village at night} Maxy: {crosses out Hund's name from his scroll} Now it's you Katze Ricky: Hmm, we still don't know who or where she is Maxy: She's in Vacuo currently Ricky: Huh? How do you know? Maxy: I had Silent investigate for me a bit, he told me a possible clue in that Kingdom Ricky: Silent? Dude didn't he try to kill you years ago? Maxy: Well now we're good friends, is that a problem? Ricky: {sighs} You make friends with anybody don't you Max? Even people trying to end your life Maxy: It's how you make a network Ricky: Yeah well if she's actually there we best make a move before she moves out, we need to identify her Maxy: Then we head there tomorrow, Terror is still with Al so we can't fly there Mama Laark: It's cool Max, you can use your Pappy's truck Maxy: Really? You want me to use Dad's truck? Mama Laark: You're gonna need to travel there, I ain't sending my babies walkin Ricky: But I can teleport there Maxy: You can't teleport supplies Ricky: Oh yeah...well if it's a truck let's make sure to pack a lot of things Maxy: Yeah, especially the beer {opens a can} Mama Laark: Uh-Uh baby boy {snatches it off his hand} you're not 21 yet Maxy: Aww Mama I was 43 Mama Laark: You were 43 before you turn us younger boy, you're barely 18 Maxy: Aww man Ricky: Hehe, oh well, least we can smoke again Maxy: Yeah, had to wait for a while though, alright, best we rest then tomorrow we make our move Ricky: Cool {walks off} Maxy: Where are you going? Ricky: I...just need to do something before I sleep Maxy:...You can't stop thinking about her can you? Ricky:... Mama Laark: Rick if you want her, stay with her Ricky: {sighs} I can't do that Mama, much as I want to {teleports} {at the Prince's Mansion} Kalista: {eyes a blacken from not sleeping for days trying to make the perfect armor} Pasu: {in his bedroom smoking a cigar}... Belle: Sweetie if you're not careful you may choke on your 10th cigar today Pasu: {coughs} Sorry Belle {sighs} I'm just thinking... Belle: Hm, you really miss your place at G.R.I.M.Ms don't you? Pasu: Oh I can live with that, I just wonder what my snake of a brother will do with my place Belle: You worry for your men? Pasu: They were a family I created within G.R.I.M.Ms, thanks to the Laarks I have lost that respect Belle: Hmm...tell you what, why don't we go out and get something to eat? Pasu: Oh I don't want you to- Belle: It's ok, I'll be paying, it's best we live like people there and now or else we may end up like the Schnees Pasu: {pictures himself with Jacque's moustache then shivers} Good point, being like Jacque is the last thing I want, Clockwork, go call Kali, we're going out Clockwork: Jawohl Kapitän! Pasu: Clockwork I'm not your Captain anymore Clockwork: Oh...my mistake Ca...umm Master Prince {goes off to Kalista's room & knocks} Miss Prince, your Vater is calling for you Kalista: Not now Clockwork Clockwork: Miss Prince you Mother and Father are going out Kalista: Tell them I'm busy Clockwork: {sighs} Miss Prince you've been in your room for a very long time now, your Mother and Father worry for you...I worry Kalista: {remains quiet} Clockwork:...{goes off} Kalista: {injects some devices in her body} Ngh...ok, this should be it Justice: Lady Prince the probability of Full Synchronisation with armor are 43% successful, it is very risky trying to become 1 with the Maiden-Slayer Kalista: If I don't try now more Kingdom and cities like Beacon will fall, I have to synch with this armor no matter what, activate Armor Materialisation Justice: Materialising... Kalista: Please work...{slowly starts floating & as her eyes glow bright neon blue}...Yes {armor starts appearing around her} It's working! {armor starts disintegrating} No-No {armor explodes damaging everything around her} Pasu: {feels a shake} What the?! {runs up stairs} Belle: Kalista! {runs up} Pasu: {breaks open her door} Kalista! {coughs from the smoke as he goes in & picks her up} Kalista: {badly burnt & wounded} {few minutes later at their dining room} Kalista: {sitting their staring at nothing while she has bandages} Pasu: This is getting out of hand Kali, I get it, things have gone crap for us but that doesn't mean you should endanger your life trying to do...whatever you do...say something! Kalista: I'm sorry Daddy Pasu: No-No-No-No-No, it's always "I'm sorry Daddy" Belle: Kali do you not care about your life? 3 months ago you tried this and you nearly killed yourself, you had to be put on Life Support for 6 weeks, you're still recovering now Kalista:... Pasu: This is getting out of hand, I'm taking your gadgets away Kalista: What?! No! Pasu: Til you clear your mind Princess I can't let you tinker anymore, I use to love seeing my Princess be creative but if that creativity is going to kill you then I got no other choice Kalista:... Pasu: I'm sorry, but unlike that douche Jacque I actually care about my family {walks off} Belle:...Kali...I know what happened has made you feel Kalista: What Mum?! Useless?! Weak?! I could have saved everyone but I was easily knocked and many died, Ricky left me and Zal is likely dead because of me! I failed everyone I cared for and been friends with! Bad enough the White Fang gave our race a bad name but...but {starts crying} Belle: {hugs her} I know sweetie...I know... Ricky: {outside far away looking}...{looks away & teleports} END

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animalistauntamedblog · 6 years ago

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There is little doubt that the dingo is the most reviled of all Australian mammals

Aussies, as we all know, have a multitude of colourful expressions, some printable and others less so. But if someone calls you a dingo, there can be no doubt – your reputation is shot. ‘Dingo’ is “a term of extreme contempt… because of the animal’s reputation for cowardice and treachery.” The poor dingo has always had a terrible press.

How did the unfortunate dingo come by such notoriety?

Right from the time British settlers first brought sheep to Australia in the 18th century, the carnivorous dingo has been considered No. 1 pest by ranchers, a pest best met with a shotgun. Bounty hunters were hired to track and kill them. The bounty hunter in colonial writings of the 19th century was cast in the role of the quintessential Australian, canny and heroic, ridding the land of the thieving marauding dingo that was “ripping the heart out of sheep grazing country.” In these tales, dingoes were the outlaws and criminals.

“280,000 bounties were paid for dingoes between 1883 and 1930, by which time dingoes had become scarce in all but the north-eastern corner of the State [New South Wales], where sheep numbers were lowest” – a grievous slaughter, practically an annihilation.

As recently as 2011, an Aussie MP was still proposing a bounty be put on the animal’s head.

The villainous persona the unfortunate dingo has acquired is deeply imbedded in Australian culture. As a former dingo trapper Sid Wright says in his 1968 book ‘The Way of the Dingo’: “In the outback it is accepted without question that the dingo is a slinking, cowardly animal”

“There is little doubt that the dingo is the most reviled of all Australian mammals. It is the only native mammal not protected in NSW by the State’s fauna legislation. [Indeed] the dingo, along with other wild dogs, is covered by a Pest Animal Control Order.”

The longest fence in the world

In the 1940s, the gaggle of higgledy piggledy fences erected to keep dingoes (and rabbits) out of sheep-grazed land was joined up to make one giant fence stretching 8614 km. Since shortened to 5614 km, it encloses the south east quarter of Australia, of which New South Wales is the heart. It’s the longest fence in the world, and its upkeep costs 10 million Australian dollars a year – “a truly epic testament to how much Australians can hate the dingo.”

Dingo fence Sturt National Park (Wikimedia Commons)

(Eat your heart out Donald Trump – if your horrible wall happens, as all lovers of wildlife, biodiversity and commonsense sincerely hope it won’t, it would be little more than half the size of this one.)

So, a loathed and despised predatory pest – such is the view of the dingo from the rancher’s side of the fence.

From the dingo’s side of the fence the picture looks very different

Dingoes ranged the bush thousands of years before the first sheep set foot on Australian soil, and while some co-existed with the indigenous peoples, none were ever domesticated. Quick-witted, pragmatic, and resourceful, these are wild animals perfectly adapted to their environment. According to a study undertaken at the Dingo Discovery Sanctuary and Research Centre near Melbourne, the dingo is, “the most intelligent animal in Australia apart from man.”

Sid Wright’s personal opinion of the dingo did not accord with what he knew to be the ranchers’ view. For him the animal was a “wild, magnificent creature” that should be conserved in Australia’s national parks and reserves.

These two opposing stances represent Australia’s ‘dingo schizophrenia’

So what to do about the dingo? Is it villain or hero? Should it be killed to protect sheep, or should it be protected as native fauna? This is the dilemma legislators and conservationists have to grapple with, of which the four most important elements are these:

1. Is the dingo a distinct species of its own, or is it simply a feral dog?

2. If it is a distinct species, is it a genuine native one, and why does this matter?

3. If it is a distinct and native species, is it threatened?

4. As the apex predator in Australia, what is the value of the ‘ecosystem services’ it provides?

Answer to Q.1

The dingo is indeed a dingo not a dog. It is a distinct species, as distinct and different from a domestic dog as the wolf is.

According to Dr. Laura Wilson, UNSW’s School of Biological, Earth and Environmental Sciences, “Pure dingoes have been shown to have cranial growth patterns more similar to wolves than domesticated dogs, larger brains and a more discrete breeding season producing fewer pups than domestic dogs.

“Dingoes are also notably less sociable with humans than domesticated dogs, characterised by a weaker ability to interpret gestures and a shorter time maintaining eye contact.”

The most recent research into the animal found further evidence of specific characteristics that differentiate dingoes from domestic dogs, feral dogs, and other wild canids such as wolves. And were there still any doubt, the clincher is of course the genetic data.

Answer to Q.2

“Dingoes have been living wild and independently of humans for a very long time — they have a distinct and unique evolutionary past that diverged some 5 to 10 thousand years ago from other canids. This is more than enough time for the dingo to have evolved into a naturalised predator now integral to maintaining the health of many Australian ecosystems.” – The dingo is a true-blue native species.

Co-author of a new study, Professor Corey Bradshaw agrees:“We show that dingoes have survived in Australia for thousands of years, subject to the rigours of natural selection, thriving in all terrestrial habitats, and largely in the absence of human intervention or aid.”

“The dingo is without doubt a native Australian species,” the Prof concludes.

Why does it matter?

It matters because conservationists’ ability to protect the dingo hinges entirely on establishing and upholding its status as a distinct and genuinely native Australian species.

It matters because the Western Australian government for example, in order to evade its conservation obligations to the dingo, recently made a politically-motivated and controversial attempt to classify it as “non-native fauna”.

Bizarrely – though maybe it’s not so bizarre considering New South Wales’ land area falls almost in its entirety on ‘the ranch side’ of the Dingo Fence, and is therefore no doubt under constant pressure from the ranching lobby – NSW is trying its darnedest to square the circle. It simultaneously acknowledges the dingo as a native species and excludes it from the protection afforded by the Biodiversity Conservation Act 2016 to all the rest of its native fauna. “All native birds, reptiles, amphibians and mammals (except the dingo) are protected in NSW. It is an offence to harm, kill or remove native animals unless you hold a licence.” But not if you’re harming, killing or removing dingoes. That’s ok. And dingoes continue to be routinely shot and poisoned in huge numbers.

It matters because Australia holds an unenviable record: “Half the world’s mammal extinctions over the last two hundred years have occurred in Australia, and we are on track for an acceleration of that loss” – Dr Thomas Newsome, School of Biological Sciences University of Sydney. “Predation by feral cats and foxes is the main reason that Australia has the worst mammal extinction record of modern time” – Prof. Sarah Legge, Threatened Species Recovery Hub.

Answer to Q.3

It matters because the dingo is on the IUCN’s Red List as a “vulnerable species”, and could also be heading for extinction.

Islands

Even without finding itself in the ranchers’ crosshairs, the dingo may lope down another disquieting path to extinction: interbreeding with domestic dogs settlers brought with them to Australia. Unless positive steps are taken to segregate the dingo, its genes will be diluted until the true species ceases to exist.

As with all other antipodean native fauna, the simplest way to conserve them is on an island. On islands it’s easier to control who or what arrives and who or what leaves. World Heritage site Fraser Island is “home to the most pure strain of dingoes remaining in eastern Australia.” Fraser Island boasts a wealth of native wildlife and operates an eco-code for visitors.

Dingoes on the beaches of Fraser Island

Yet even here dingoes live under a cloud of controversy. “110 dingoes have been humanely euthanised for unacceptable or dangerous behaviour on Fraser Island between January 2001 and September 2013, with between 1 and 32 dingoes killed in any given year.”

In 2011, one Jennifer Parkhurst was fined and given a suspended sentence for feeding the dingoes on the island, which she claimed were starving. Others supported her claim: “If things go on the way they’re going, the whole dingo population on that Fraser Island will become extinct,” said veterinarian Dr Ian Gunn, from Monash University’s National Dingo Recovery and Preservation Program. Yet other sources claim many of the dingoes on the island are overweight, verging on the obese!

And as you can imagine, the news media are ever ready to fall into a feeding frenzy and stoke dingo controversy whenever there’s a dingo attack on people. Wiki lists 10 such on the island since 1980, the worst in 2001 resulting in the tragic death of 9 year old Clinton Gage.

31 Fraser Island dingoes were culled in response. “It was a meaningless cull, but in terms of the genetics, it was terribly significant because it was a high proportion of the population” – Dr Ernest Healy, of Australia’s National Dingo Preservation and Recovery Program. Such a drastic cull diminished the gene pool, and just where the animals should live free from the dangers surrounding their mainland cousins, this raised the spectre of extinction for the pure breed dingo of the island. “Kingaroy dingo handler and breeder Simon Stretton says purebred Fraser Island dingoes will be gone in 10 years.”

Answer to Q.4

Besides sheep and cattle, invasive species camels, horses, donkeys, deer, rabbits, goats, hares, foxes, cats, rats and house mice also arrived in Australia courtesy of 19th and 20th century settlers. (Foxes were introduced in 1855 simply so the new human arrivals need not forgo the ‘sport’ of hunting them they enjoyed so much at home. The foxes have since multiplied to more than 7 million, and the threat level they pose to native fauna is ‘Extreme’.) After humans, these invasive species are next most responsible for the decimation of Australia’s unique flora and fauna. The carnivores take out the fauna (the foxes and cats alone take out millions of native animals nightly, and are almost solely responsible for the loss of 20 native animal species) and the herbivores “graze the desert to dust and turn wetlands to mud barrens.”

What has this to do with the dingo? A lot! As Australia’s apex predator, the ‘ecosystem services’ the animal provides are, researchers are discovering, invaluable. “Dingoes play a vital ecological role in Australia by outcompeting and displacing noxious introduced predators like feral cats and foxes. When dingoes are left alone, there are fewer feral predators eating native marsupials, birds and lizards” – Prof Bradshaw.

Dingoes may be enemy No. 1 in the eyes of sheep farmers, but cattle farmers (as well as the native fauna) should thank their lucky stars to have them around. “Dingoes can also increase profits for cattle graziers, because they target and eat kangaroos that otherwise compete with cattle for grass in semi-arid pasture lands” -Prof B once more.

And according to Dr. Mike Letnic, Centre for Ecosystem Science UNSW, “the dingo, as Australia’s top predator, has an important role in maintaining the balance of nature and that reintroduced or existing dingo populations could increase biodiversity across more than 2 million square kilometres of Australia.” Where dingoes had been exterminated, Dr. Letnic found far greater numbers of red foxes and invasive herbivores, with small native mammals and grasses being lost.

As the re-introduction of grey wolves to Yellowstone National Park famously proved, from the presence of an apex predator flows a trophic cascade of ecological benefits. In the dingo’s case, the trophic cascade emanating from this particular apex predator flows all the way down and into the soil itself. And for the research that uncovered this surprising benefit, the infamous Dingo Fence for once worked in the animal’s favour:

“The fence provides a unique opportunity to test the effects of the removal of an apex predator on herbivore abundance, vegetation and nutrients in the soil,” says researcher Timothy Morris.

From comparing the conditions in the outback on either side of the fence came forth the revelation that exterminating dingoes not only has an adverse effect on the abundance of other native animals and plants, but also degrades the quality of the soil.

Far from supporting a continued assault on this much maligned creature, all the evidence supports “allowing dingo populations to increase”. More dingoes, not less are Australia’s prerequisite to “enhancing the productivity of ecosystems across vast areas of the country.”

Oh Aussie legislators and ranchers, you are getting it so wrong. Stop demonising and destroying this ‘wild, magnificent creature’, and let us see Canis dingo running free for millennia to come.

*********

If you are of the same mind, please sign and share these petitions:

Petition to remove dingoes from the Pest List

Petition to save dingoes from extinction – re-classify as an endangered species

Petition to stop the promotion of a new export market — Australian dingoes for Asian diners

Petition to stop the use of toxin 1080 to poison dingoes

If the dingo teaches us anything as human beings, surely it’s this:

“As they have demonstrated time and again, large carnivores will not stay within human defined safe zones. We need to learn to share the land and its bounty with them, to live with them, or we will lose them—and with them a considerable part of what makes us human.”

Mark Derr, Saving The Large Carnivores, Psychology Today

Sources

Dingoes should remain a distinct species in Australia

11 Wild Facts About Dingoes

Dingo – Wiki

Dingo Fence – Wiki

Dingo dualisms: Exploring the ambiguous identity of Australian dingoes

Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf: is the dingo friend or foe?

Last howl of the dingo: the legislative, ecological and practical issues arising from the kill-or-conserve dilemma

Thirteen mammal extinctions prevented by havens

Dingoes, like wolves, are smarter than pet dogs

Time for a bold dingo experiment in NSW national park

Careful using that f-word to describe dingoes

Invasive Species in Australia – Wiki

Culling is no danger to the future of dingoes on Fraser Island

Fraser Island ‘pure bred’ dingoes could be extinct in 10 years

Dingo fence study shows dingo extermination leads to poorer soil

Tsá Tué – Where People & Animals Are Equal

Walking Hand in Hand with Nature

Through Artist’s Eyes – The Wondrous Web of Life & Death

A Dingo is a Dingo Not a Dog – & Why That Really Matters There is little doubt that the dingo is the most reviled of all Australian mammals Aussies, as we all know, have a multitude of colourful expressions, some printable and others less so.

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jbuffyangel · 8 years ago

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Another great, in depth, article from Wendy Mericle!

The lingering question after the midseason finale involves the circumstances of Laurel's return — if indeed it is Laurel. How much will we be seeing her for the rest of the season?

We'll be seeing her when we come back in the first episode. Then, as always with Katie, if we find the right story, we bring her back and we want to have her on the show as much as possible. It has been proven by the recent events that she's obviously a huge fan favorite, and we love working with her. That said, she won't factor hugely into the back half of the season, but I think the way we brought her back and the twist and the reveal, will really help set the tone for the back half of the season for Oliver and Felicity emotionally, and also for how Prometheus operates.

This just cracked me up. Translation: Yes, we know all you comic book fans love her and we tossed you a few crumbs, but no. She’s done for the season. The placating game is strong.

The episode description for 510 says that Oliver is grappling with the fear that he's really a killer at heart, but that the seemingly miraculous return of Laurel offers him a ray of hope. How does her reappearance shift his perspective?

We really explored the question in Season 2 of "to kill or not to kill?" We don't want to repeat that or retread that territory, but what we do want to do is have Oliver ask these questions in the context of his legacy. He killed Prometheus's father, and that has given birth to one of the worst villains he's ever gone up against. There's no way he's going to go through the rest of the season and not be questioning that. It's a fundamental part of the season; him wondering “was this the right thing to do” and is he truly honoring his family legacy by doing it?

Again, they aren’t trying to rehash the kill or not kill (although they kind of are), but the ultimate goal is to push Oliver to this “better hero.” The ultimate goal is to make him the fully evolved Green Arrow.

It's refreshing that Felicity isn't blaming Oliver for Malone's death. It's a surprisingly healthy approach, even in the worst circumstances. But she just lost a guy that she demonstrably cared for, so how is that motivating her moving forward?

Felicity's gone through a lot. She inadvertently killed a bunch of people — 20,000, give or take — in Season 4. We wanted to do a little bit of a reset with her at the top of the season, and she was very happy with Malone. I think there's no way this is not going to take her down the darkest path we've seen her on, on the show. To us, in a lot of ways, this season is her island. She's going through things that she's never been through before. She's got, I think most importantly, a new understanding and appreciation for Oliver's sense of the dangers of this life and the dangers of having a personal life while doing it and the consequences of that in a really direct way now, because ultimately Malone wouldn't have been in the crosshairs if it weren't for her. She knows that.

WALKING IN OLIVER’S SHOES!!!! And I think this may be the first time Wendy has officially said they are sending Felicity to her island. I don’t think they ever said that before, even with the paralysis. Again, this is hugely important. Felicity was always accepting of Oliver’s darkness. However, she needs to understand it on a deeper level by recognizing her own darkness. It’s going to lead Felicity to do morally questionable things. Felicity will ultimately deceive Oliver because of it. This is all an echo of what she experienced with Oliver in S4. She fears the part of him that will always go back to the island.

Now it’s Felicity who will be going it alone. It will be Felicity who is hiding things from Oliver. What Felicity needs to understand is that we all have an island in us - even her. And that will help lessen her fear with Oliver, allow her to take that leap into the big unknown, and give him another chance. Coupled, of course, by seeing Oliver IN ACTION overcoming his island again and again, being a more honorable and trustworthy man. When Felicity wants to “go it alone” it will be Oliver who is the one who will try to reach her... a stark departure for their relationship and something Felicity needs to see.

I think you guys have acknowledged the fact that you feel like you probably broke Oliver and Felicity up too soon last season. In terms of bringing Malone on and then dispatching him so early in Season 5, can you talk about the motivations behind that, and where it leaves Oliver and Felicity moving forward? Because obviously neither of them are in a place for a relationship right now, but there's still a lot of history there.

That's true. I think for us, the decision to have Malone be in the crosshairs and die when he did was more motivated by what we wanted to do with Felicity this season, independent of Oliver. Regardless of whether we get them back together or not down the road — and I know there's a huge controversy out there about which way that should go — I think for us, our promise at the start of the season was to see what their lives would be like without that romantic relationship. That's really what we wanted to do.

For us going forward, and for Felicity too, it's really about, "what does this loss mean?" What it means for her and Oliver I think is a question we will have to address in the future, but ... I think at the earliest, it will be towards the end of the season. She's a great character, and she deserves to have her own storylines. Emily Bett Rickards is amazing. That's been the goal this season, and that's why we've been going the way we have.

Finally, a reporter actually acknowledging that Marc and Wendy have both acknowledged that breaking Olicity up was a mistake. Wendy is very blunt. They are exploring the last vestiges of the will they/won’t they. We’ve seen Oliver and Felicity not in a romantic relationship before (S2 and S3). However, we’ve never seen them not be together after having a relationship. This is a common “milk it” trope many shows do and Arrow is just one among many.

It’s really important to note that Wendy said they will address those big Olicity questions towards the end of the season. Again, this is complete alignment with what Marc told me back at SDCC: this is a SEASON LONG journey. They are promoting the middle block of episodes (10-15ish) and anyone expecting a reunion NOW can stop. They are going to push this all the way to the end, which, is what I’ve expected all along mostly because Marc told us that’s what they were going to do. However, “towards the end of the season” doesn’t mean season finale. She’s talking about the final block of episodes (18-23). That’s when they’ll start dealing with Olicity on a more romantic front I believe. And for Felicity, “what does this loss mean?” means that she’s only understanding Oliver and herself on a deeper level... which leads to forgiveness and a desire to try again. Again, this is all code for “they are getting back together.”

I’m also pleased that Wendy is acknowledging that before Olicity can get back together, they need to let Felicity deal with her emotions and that requires an independant arc, separate from Oliver, which is EXACTLY what they are going to give her.

The description for episode 511 previews Felicity hacking the NSA to try and help free Diggle, but her mission brings her up against an unknown online adversary. Is that someone new or someone we've met before?

I can tell you it's new and that we're very excited about it. In keeping with what we were just talking about with Felicity and Oliver, we really wanted Felicity to go down her own path this year. Even though it is a new organization and it's a completely new set of characters, we are going to come to find out later in the year that she unwittingly had a part in their inception. We're excited about that.

I love that this is a whole new set of characters for Felicity to interact with and I firmly believe this is all about launching Smoak Technologies.

That episode introduces another vigilante, Tina Boland (Juliana Harkavay). What should we know about her?

She is a total badass, basically. I love her character. She's a former cop who has gone off the deep end because of tragic events that really sort of set her on this dark path. What I like most about her is she's a fully-fledged fighter. She is Oliver's equal in many respects. She's a grown-up, and she's just basically a total baller. I think she's going to be kind of a fun, cool addition to the show. The actress we've cast is fantastic.

Same talk about Tina. She’s Oliver’s physical fighting equal. I don’t see any hints of romance in this promotion, so I’m still at teammate with these two.

The recruits are finally starting to come into their own and form a cohesive unit — what can we look forward to in their storylines?

Then for Rene, we've sort of hinted that he has a bit of a tragic backstory, and we're going to be delving into that with a lot more specificity. We love Wild Dog, and I know that there's a little bit of a mixed reception with the fans, but hopefully when we see where he came from and what his origins are, we'll get some people on his team.

Then with Ragman, there's a really cool story coming up for him in episode 512 that we're really excited about that will set him on a slightly different path, but ultimately he'll still be kind of working with the team.

It’s great that Wendy finally recognized our distaste for Wild Dog. Doesn’t mean they are getting rid of him for sure, but at least they’ve heard the feedback. I think his origins are tied with Tina and this is all about getting her on the team.

Very interesting about Ragman. “Still be KIND OF working with the team.” Hmmm... looks like they are trying to thin the herd a bit and rotate some of the newbies out, so the main cast can have an increased focus. This is good. I’d prefer they’d rotate Wild Dog out more, but that could be coming. I love Ragman, and want him to stay, but his rags really lower the stakes so that can only take the show so far.

Diggle is in a very precarious predicament at the moment — where do we find him in the back half of the season?

I can tell you that he is no longer going to sign off on any sort of jailbreak. That's not going to happen again. Part of Felicity's dark path that she's going to be heading down will be ... It'll be kicked off by her drive to save him. It'll be a very complicated, we hope, story between Felicity and Diggle for the back half of the year.

What’s that you say Wendy? DIGGLE AND FELICITY ARE GETTING A STORY TOGETHER???!!!!

I am over the freaking moon. #DelicityForever #OTA

#arrow #olicity #felicity smoak #arrow spoilers #oliver queen #anti laurel lance #tina boland #john diggle #felicity and diggle #wild dog #ragman #spoiler theoretical #arrow interviews

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hellosaltysaladcollectionstuff · 4 years ago

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Netflix's Umbrella Academy Season 2 is just around the corner, and there are a lot of characters to keep track of

Umbrella Academy Season 1 wrapped up on a major cliffhanger--and it's one you'll probably want to have fresh in your memory as Season 2 kicks off on July 31. The new season picks up directly where the old one left off--with the entire Hargreeves family in the crosshairs of a full-on apocalypse, except this time the world isn't going to end in 2019, it's going to end in the 1960s. Talk about a tough break.

Naturally, there are plenty of moving parts to consider and keep track of in this new season, which means it's critical for you to have at least some memory of exactly what happened in Season 1. Remember Five's torrid love affair at the end of the world? The whole deal with The Handler? Leonard Peabody and Vanya's awakening? What about Klaus in Vietnam, or Ben's reveal?

Don't panic if you're scratching your head--like we said, there are a lot of moving parts here. And to save you from trying to fit a whole 10-episode binge into the week before Season 2's premiere, we've broken down the most critical things to remember about each of the key players in Umbrella Academy's wacky, violent, temporally displaced world. So, let's rewind a second and bring you back up to speed.

In case it wasn't already obvious, major spoilers from Umbrella Academy Season 1 ahead.

Luther Hargreeves (Number 1)

Luther's whole life has been defined by his unwavering (and completely misguided) loyalty to his father who, quite frankly, treats both him and his siblings like absolute garbage. Prior to Season 1, Luther was the only Hargreeves child to stay with Reginald, who sent him on a "mission" to an isolated moon base. The mission, which, unsurprisingly, wound up to be a thinly veiled excuse to get Luther out of his hair, ended in catastrophe, nearly killing Luther but allowing Reginald a chance to test an experimental medical procedure. It saved Luther's life but transformed his body into an ape-like monstrosity.

More isolated and repressed than ever before, Luther tailspun until Reginald was murdered and his siblings came crashing back into his life. He has an antagonistic relationship with Diego and a flirtatious (but typically doomed, for numerous reasons) relationship with Allison. The two of them can just never seem to make it work.

Luther spent nearly all of his time in Season 1 pining over Allison, trying to mediate his siblings' petty squabbles, and otherwise grappling with the yolk of leadership around his neck.

Diego Hargreeves (Number 2)

As the official Number 2, Diego has always had an inferiority complex aimed at Luther. While Luther always seemed to win the approval of Reginald, Diego was the family's mama's boy, fostering a close connection to the family's "mother," Grace, a robot made by Reginald himself. When the Umbrella Academy was officially dissolved, Diego became a sort of Batman-like vigilante, befriending (and later sort-of dating) a police officer named Eudora Patch to get his leads.

Diego's power allows him to telekinetically control projectiles. He's never stopped feeling desperate for his father's approval and never quite forgiven Luther for being the "favorite" of the family.

Diego spent the majority of Season 1 obsessively trying to investigate Reginald's death with the help of Detective Patch, which unfortunately lands her in the crosshairs of The Commission. Patch was killed by Cha-Cha, leaving Diego with yet another death he felt the need to avenge.

Allison Hargreeves (Number 3)

Allison had the closest approximation to a successful life following the collapse of the Umbrella Academy team--but it came with a catch. Her power, the ability to mentally manipulate anyone into doing anything by giving them commands that start with "I heard a rumor…" (i.e. "I heard a rumor that you hired me for this job," or "I heard a rumor you paid me millions of dollars," etc.) She conned her way into a life of fame and fortune by telling rumors about herself, earning celebrity status before settling down and starting a family.

Things began to collapse in her life after Reginald's murder when her husband eventually learned about her abilities and her on-again-off-again thing with Luther was reginited. She ended the season with a severe neck injury (her throat was slashed by Vanya's violin bow during an outburst) that rendered her mute, and thus, unable to use her powers at all.

Klaus Hargreeves (Number 4)

Klaus's abilities allowed (or, maybe more accurately forced) him to commune with the dead. After being traumatized repeatedly by his father's experiments in pushing him to his limits, including locking him in mausoleums for days on end surrounded by ghosts, Klaus completely went off the rails. On his own, he became a drug addicted alcoholic, caught in a seemingly endless downward spiral, all while putting on a flamboyant, narcissistic front.

During Season 1, Klaus accidentally time traveled back to the Vietnam war, where he met and fell in love with an American soldier named Dave. Dave, tragically, was killed in battle and when Klaus was returned to the present, he kept Dave's dog tags. Now coping with post-traumatic stress, Klaus tried to get clean.

The other major reveal for Klaus in Season 1 was that Ben, his brother who had been killed on a mission during their childhood, is actually still around as a ghost that only Klaus can see and communicate with.

Five (Number 5)

Five mysteriously vanished in a time traveling experiment that left him stranded in a post apocalyptic future for decades. During that time, he lost his mind, fell in love with a mall mannequin he named Dolores, and proceeded to make a sort of life with her in his head. It was all very weird, but kind of sweet. He even brought her back to the present with him and toted her fiberglass body around, confiding in her.

It was revealed that, during his time in the future, Five joined a bureaucratic body known as The Commission, created to police time-space anomalies and preserve the passage of time. He became one of their top ranking agents, a ruthless killing machine who traveled through time snuffing out anomalies with brutal efficiency, all while grappling with the fact he was still very much not-quite-there mentally or emotionally.

When he finally managed to return to the present, he found himself trapped in his thirteen-year-old body, despite being mentally in his 50s. He attempted to rally his siblings to prevent the apocalypse he had traveled to while dodging The Commission's assassins sent to kill him for going rogue.

Ben Hargreeves (Number 6)

Ben Hargreeves died as a child before the events of the show kicked off, but was revealed to be haunting Klaus--a major change from the comics, where he was just regular, run-of-the-mill dead.

Ben was able to possess Klaus and use some of his powers to help fight The Commission--though not much is known about how Ben's abilities actually work. His code name is "The Horror" and he's able to manifest various extra dimensional monsters through his skin, but thus far, at least in his ghost form, what we've seen have been tentacles sprouting out of his chest.

The only person Ben can directly communicate with is Klaus, who, unfortunately, is less than thrilled to play mediator between him and the rest of the siblings.

Vanya Hargreeves (Number 7)

Gaslit by her father from childhood, Vanya grew up believing she was the only Hargreeves child without special powers. The truth, however, was that Reginald determined Vanya's abilities to be too dangerous and drugged her to keep them at bay. This led to a life of isolation for Vanya, who never officially got to be part of her brothers and sister's childhood superhero team.

As an adult, Vanya played and taught violin and lived a mostly quiet life before a man named Leonard Peabody slowly insinuated himself into her good graces. It seemed like an innocent enough romance at first, but eventually Leonard revealed himself to be an Umbrella Academy stalker who was bent on destroying the team. His plan involved turning Vanya against her family and causing her to lose control of her powers--and he mostly succeeded, but Vanya's mental breakdown also triggered the apocalypse (via the moon exploding), which the Hargreeves family avoided by traveling back in time.

The Other Hargreeves

The 7 Hargreeves children were raised by Reginald, their abusive adoptive father, Grace, their robotic "mother," and Pogo, a sentient chimp who functioned like something of a nanny.

Reginald adopted the Hargreeves children after they were mysteriously born--all simultaneously, around the world on October 1, 1989, to women who were not pregnant. He trained them as the Umbrella Academy, forcing them to fight crime and develop their powers, though no one, least of all the children, really knew why or to what end.

Reginald's death is what triggers the family reunion that kicked off the first season. Grace was killed, as much as a robot can be killed, by Diego (it was tragic, trust us) and Pogo was accidentally killed by Vanya when she lost control of her powers.

The Commission

The critical characters to remember in The Commission are The Handler, Hazel, and Cha-Cha. The latter two are time-traveling assassins who were sent to execute Five for abandoning his mission and trying to prevent the apocalypse. Hazel finished Season 1 by betraying The Commission after he fell in love with a civilian waitress in 2019, which prompted him to decide he'd rather lead a normal life than continue hopscotching through time murdering people.

The Handler, Five's former boss, is a sociopathic ladder-climber bent on complete Commission control. She sits at the top, or very near the top, of the Commission's bureaucratic ladder and is less concerned with actually preserving space and time than she is with garnering as much personal power as she possibly can. She ended Season 1 by taking a bullet to the head courtesy of Five--though it's difficult to say whether or not this removes her from the equation for good, given how connected with time travel she is.

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